%       IRISH  FAIRY      v 
AND    FOLK    TALES 


EDITED  AND  SELECTED 

BY  W.  B.  YEATS 


fPT{OFUSELY  ILLUSTRATED 


A.  L   BURT  COMPANY, 
PUBLISHERS,  NEW  TQRK 


•FT  or 


( 


INTRODUCTION. 


DR.  CORBETT,  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  Norwich,  lamented 
long  ago  the  departure  of  the  English  fairies.  "  In  Queen 
Mary's  time  "  he  wrote— 

"  When  Tom  came  liome  from  labor, 

OrCis  to  milking  rose, 
Then  merrily,  merrily  went  their  tabor, 
And  merrily  went  their  toes." 

But  now,  in  the  times  of  James,  they  had  all  gone,  for 
"  they  were  of  the  old  profession,"  and  "  their  songs  were 
Ave  Maries."  In  Ireland  they  are  still  extant,  giving 
gifts  to  the  kindly,  and  plaguing  the  surly.  "  Have  you 
ever  seen  a  fairy  or  such  like  ? "  I  asked  an  old  man  in 
County  Sligo.  "  Amn't  I  annoyed  with  tbem,"  was  the 
answer.  "  Do  the  fishermen  along  here  know  anything  of 
the  mermaids  ?  "  I  asked  a  woman  of  a  village  in  County 
Dublin.  "  Indeed,  they  don't  like  to  see  them  at  all,"  she 
answered,  "  for  they  always  bring  bad  weather."  "  Here 
is  a  man  who  believes  in  ghosts,"  said  a  foreign  sea-cap 
tain,  pointing  to  a  pilot  of  my  acquaintance.  "  In  every 
house  over  there,"  said  the  pilot,  pointing  to  his  native 
village  of  Rosses,  "  there  are  several."  Certainly  that 
now  old  and  much  respected  dogmatist,  the  Spirit  of  the 
Age,  has  in  no  manner  made  his  voice  heard  down  there. 
In  a  little  while,  for  he  has  gotten  a  consumptive  appear 
ance  of  late,  he  will  be  covered  over  decently  in  his  grave, 
and  another  will  grow,  old  and  much  respected,  in  his 
place,  and  never  be  heard  of  down  there,  and  after  him 
another  and  another  and  another.  Indeed,  it  is  a  question 

iii 


iv  INTRODUCTION. 

whether  any  of  these  personages  will  ever  be  heard  of 
outside  the  newspaper  offices  and  lecture-rooms  and  draw 
ing-rooms  and  ee-pie  houses  of  the  cities,  or  if  the  Spirit 
of  the  Age  is  at  any  time  more  than  a  froth.  At  any 
rate,  whole  troops  of  their  like  will  not  ehange  the  Celt 
much.  Giraldus  Cambrensis  found  the  people  of  the 
western  islands  a  trifle  paganish.  "HoAv  many  gods  are 
there  ?  "  asked  a  priest,  a  little  Avhile  ago,  of  a  man  from 
the  Island  of  Innistor.  "  There  is  one  on  Innistor ;  but 
this  seems  a  big  place,"  said  the  man,  and  the  priest  held 
up  his  hands  in  horror,  as  Giraldus  had,  just  seven  cen 
turies  before.  Remember,  I  am  not  blaming  the  man ;  it 
is  very  much  better  to  believe  in  a  number  of  gods  than 
in  none  at  all,  or  to  think  there  is  only  one,  but  that  he  is 
a  little  sentimental  and  impracticable,  and  not  constructed 
for  the  nineteenth  century.  The  Celt,  and  his  cromlechs, 
and  his  pillar-stones,  these  will  not  change  much — indeed, 
it  is  doubtful  if  anybody  at  all  changes  at  any  time.  In 
spite  of  hosts  of  deniers,  and  asserters,  and  wise-men,  and 
professors,  the  majority  still  are  averse  to  sitting  down  to 
dine  thirteen  at  table,  or  being  helped  to  salt,  or  walking 
under  a  ladder,  or  seeing  a  single  magpie  flirting  his 
checkered  tail.  There  are,  of  course,  children  of  light 
who  have  set  their  faces  against  all  this,  though  even  a 
newspaper  man,  if  you  entice  him  into  a  cemetery  at  mid 
night,  will  believe  in  phantoms,  for  every  one  is  a  vision 
ary  if  you  scratch  him  deep  enough.  But  the  Celt  is  a 
visionary  without  scratching. 

Yet,  be  it  noticed,  if  you  are  a  stranger,  you  will  not 
readily  get  ghost  and  fairy  legends,  even  in  a  western  vil 
lage.  You  must  go  adroitly  to  work,  and  make  friends 
with  the  children,  and  the  old  men,  with  those  who  have 
not  felt  the  pressure  of  mere  daylight  existence,  and  those 
with  whom  it  is  growing  less,  and  will  have  altogether 
taken  itself  off  one  of  these  days.  The  old  women  are 
most  learned,  but  will  not  so  readily  be  got  to  talk,  for 
the  fairies  are  very  secretive,  and  much  resent  being 
talked  of;  and  are  there  not  many  stories  of  old  women 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

who  were  nearly  pirn-hod  into  their  graves  or  numbed 
with  fairy  blasts  ? 

At  sea,  when  the  nets  are  out  and  the  pipes  are  lit,  then 
will  some  aneient  hoarder  of  tales  become  loquacious, 
telling  his  histories  to  the  tune  of  the  creaking  of  the 
boats.  Holy-eve  night,  too,  is  a  great  time,  and  in  old 
days  many  tales  were  to  be  heard  at  wakes.  But  the 
priests  have  set  faces  against  wakes. 

In  the  Parochial  Survey  of  Ireland  it  is  recorded  how 
the  story-tellers  used  to  gather  together  of  an  evening, 
and  if  any  had  a  different  version  from  the  others,  they 
would  all  recite  theirs  and  vote,  and  the  man  who  had 
varied  would  have  to  abide  by  their  verdict.  In  this  way 
stories  have  been  handed  down  with  such  accuracy,  that 
the  long  tale  of  Dierdre  was,  in  the  earlier  decades  of  this 
century,  told  almost  word  for  word,  as  in  the  very  ancient 
LMSS.  in  the  Royal  Dublin  Society.  In  one  case  only  it 
varied,  and  then  the  MS.  was  obviously  wrong — a  passage 
had  been  forgotten  by  the  copyist.  But  this  accuracy  is 
rather  in  the  folk  and  bardic  tales  than  in  the  fairy 
legends,  for  these  vary  widely,  being  usually  adapted  to 
some  neighboring  village  or  local  fairy-seeing  celebrity. 
Each  county  has  usually  some  family,  or  personage,  sup 
posed  to  have  been  favored  or  plagued,  especially  by  the 
phantoms,  as  the  I  Jackets  of  Castle  Hacket,  Gal  way,  who 
had  for  their  ancestor  a  fairy,  or  John-o'-Daly  of  Lisadell, 
Sligo,  who  wrote  "  Killeen  Aroon,"  the  song  the  Scotch 
have  stolen  and  called  "  Robin  Adair,'"  and  which  Handel 
woidd  sooner  have  written  than  alibis  oratorios,*  and  the 
"O'Donahue  of  Kerry."  Hound  these  men  stories  tended 
to  group  themselves,  sometimes  deserting  more  ancient 
heroes  for  the  purpose.  Hound  poets  have  they  gathered 
especially,  for  poetry  in  Ireland  has  always  been  mys 
teriously  connected  with  magic. 

These  folk-tales  are  full  of  simplicity  and  musical  oc 
currences,  for  they  are  the  literature  of  a  class  for  whom 
*  He  lived  some  time  in  Dublin,  and  heard  it  then. 


yi  INTRODUCTION. 

every  incident  in  the  old  nit  of  birth,  love,  pain,  and 
death  has  cropped  up  unchanged  for  centuries  :  who  have 
steeped  everything  in  the  heart :  to  whom  everything  is 
a  symbol.  They  have  the  spade  over  which  man  has 
leant  from  the  beginning.  The  people  of  the  cities  have 
the  machine,  which  is  prose  and  a  parvenu.  They  have 
few  events.  They  can  turn  over  the  incidents  of  a  long 
life  as  they  sit  by  the  fire.  With  us  nothing  has  time  to 
gather  meaning,  and  too  many  things  are  occurring  for 
even  a  big  heart  to  hold.  It  is  said  the  most  eloquent 
people  in  the  world  are  the  Arabs,  who  have  only  the 
bare  earth  of  the  desert  and  a  sky  swept  bare  by  the  sun. 
"  Wisdom  has  alighted  upon  three  things,"  goes  their 
proverb ;  "  the  hand  of  the  Chinese,  the  brain  of  the 
Frank,  and  the  tongue  of  the  Arab."  This,  T  take  it,  is  the 
meaning  of  that  simplicity  sought  for  so  much  in  these 
days  by  all  the  poets,  and  not  to  be  had  at  any  price. 

The  most  notable  and  typical  story-teller  of  my  ac 
quaintance  is  one  Paddy  Flynn,  a  little,  bright-eyed,  old 
man,  living  in  a  leaky  one-roomed  cottage  of  the  village 

of  B ,  "  The   most  gentle — /.  <>.,  fairy — place  in    the 

whole  of  the  County  Sligo,"  he  says,  though  others  claim 
that  honor  for  Drumahair  or  Drumcliff.  A  very  pious 
old  man,  too !  You  may  have  some  time  to  inspect  his 
strange  figure  and  ragged  hair,  if  he  happen  to  be  in  a 
devout  humor,  before  he  comes  to  the  doings  of  the 
gentry.  A  strange  devotion  !  Old  tales  of  Columkill, 
and  what  he  said  to  his  mother.  "  How  are  you  to-day, 
mother?"  "Worse!"  "May  you  be  worse  to-mor 
row  ; "  and  on  the  next  day,  "  How  are  you  to-day, 
mother  ?  "  "  Worse  !  "  "  May  you  be  worse  to-morrow  ;  " 
and  on  the  next,  "  How  are  you  to-day,  mother  ? " 
"  Bettei\  thank  God."  "  May  you  be  better  to-morrow." 
In  which  undutiful  manner  he  will  tell  you  Columkill  in 
culcated  cheerfulness.  -Then  most  likely  he  will  wander 
off  into  his  favorite  theme — how  the  judge  smiles  alike 
in  rewarding  the  good  and  condemning  the  lost  to  unceas 
ing  flames.  Very  consoling  does  it  appear  to  Paddy 


INTRODUCTION.  vii 

Flynn,  this  melancholy  and  apocalyptic  cheerfulness  of 
the  Judge.  Xor  seems  his  own  cheerfulness  quite  earthly 
—though  a  very  palpable  cheerfulness.  The  first  time  I 
sa\v  him  he  was  cooking  mushrooms  for  himself;  the  next 
time  he  was  asleep  under  a  hedge,  smiling  in  his  sleep. 
Assuredly  some  joy  not  quite  of  this  steadfast  earth  light 
ens  in  those  eyes — swift  as  the  eyes  of  a  rabbit — among 
so  many  wrinkles,  for  Paddy  Flynn  is  very  old.  A  mel 
ancholy  there  is  in  the  midst  of  their  cheerfulness — a 
melancholy  that  is  almost  a  portion  of  their  joy,  the  vis 
ionary  melancholy  of  purely  instinctive  natures  and  of  all 
animals.  In  the  triple  solitude  of  age  and  eccentricity  and 
partial  deafness  he  goes  about  much  pestered  by  children. 

As  to  the  reality  of  his  fairy  and  spirit-seeing  powers, 
not  all  are  agreed.  One  day  we  were  talking  of  the 
Banshee.  "I  have  seen  it,"  lie  said,  udo\\n  there  by  the 
water  -batting'  the  river  with  its  hands."  lie  it  was 
who  said  the  fairies  annoyed  him. 

Not  that  the  Skeptic  is  entirely  afar  even  from  these 
western  villages.  1  found  him  one  morning  as  he  bound 
his  corn  in  a  merest  pocket-lwnkerchief  of  afield.  Very 
different  from  Paddy  Flynn — Skepticism  in  every  wrinkle 
of  his  face,  and  a  traveled  man,  too! — a  foot-long. Aloha  wk 
Indian  tatooed  on  one  of  his  arms  to  evidence  the  matter. 
'-They  who  travel/1  says  a  neighboring  priest,  shaking  his 
head  over  him,  and  ({noting  Thomas  A'Kempis,  "seldom 
come  home  holy."  I  had  mentioned  ghosts  to  the  Skeptic. 
"Ghosts,"  said  he  ;  "there  are  no  such  things  at  all,  at  all, 
but  the  gentry,  they  stand  to  reason  ;  for  the  devil,  when 
he  fell  out  of  heaven,  took  the  weak-minded  ones  with  him, 
and  they  were  put  into  the  waste  places.  And  that's  what 
the  gentry  are.  But  they  are  getting  scarce  now,  because 
their  time's  over,  ye  see,  and  they're  going  back.  But 
ghosts,  no!  And  I'll  tell  ye  something  more  I  don't 
believe  in — the  fire  of  hell ;"  then,  in  a  low  voice,  "  that's 
only  invented  to  give  the  priests  and  the  parsons  something 
to  do."  Thereupon  this  man,  so  full  of  enlightenment, 
returned  to  his  corn-binding. 


Viii  INTRODUCTION. 

The  various  collectors  of  Irish  folk-lore  have,  from  our 
point  of  view,  one  great  merit,  and  from  the  point  of  view 
of  others,  one  great  fault.  They  have  made  their  work 
literature  rather  than  science,  and  told  us  of  the  Irish 
peasantry  rather  than  of  the  primitive  religion  of  man 
kind,  or  whatever  else  the  folk-lorists  are  on  the  gad 
after.  To  be  considered  scientists  they  should  have 
tabulated  all  their  tales  in  forms  like  grocer's  bills — 
item  the  fairy  king,  item  the  queen.  Instead  of  this  they 
have  caught  the  very  voice  of  the  people,  the  very  pulse 
of  life,  each  giving  what  was  most  noticed  in  his  day. 
Croker  and  Lover,  full  of  the  ideas  of  harum-scarum  Irish 
gentility,  saw  everything  humorized.  The  impulse  of  the 
Irish  literature  of  their  time  came  from  a  class  that  did  not 
— mainly  for  political  reasons — take  the  populace  seriously, 
and  imagined  the  country  as  a  humorist's  Arcadia ;  its 
passion,  its  gloom,  its  tragedy,  they  knew  nothing  of. 
"What  they  did  was  not  wholly  false  ;  they  merely  magni 
fied  an  irresponsible  type,  found  oftenest  among  boatmen, 
carmen,  and  gentlemen's  servants,  into  the  type  of  a  whole 
nation,  and  created  the  stage  Irishman.  )  The  writers  of 
'  Forty-eight,  and  the  famine  combined,  burst  their  bubble. 
Their  work  had  the  dash  as  well  as  the  shallowness  of  an 
ascendant  and  idle  class,  and  in  Croker  is  touched  every 
where  with  beauty — a  gentle  Arcadian  beauty.  Carleton, 
a  peasant  born,  has  in  many  of  his  stories — I  have  been 
only  able  to  give  a  few  of  the  slightest — more  especially  in 
his  ghost  stories,  a  much  more  serious  way  with  him,  for 
all  his  humor.  Kennedy,  an  old  bookseller  in  Dublin, 
who  seems  to  have  had  a  something  of  genuine  belief  in 
the  fairies,  came  next  in  time.  He  has  far  less  literary 
faculty,  but  is  wonderfully  accurate,  giving  often  the  very 
words  the  stories  were  told  in.  But  the  best  book  since 
Croker  is  Lady  Wilde's  Ancient  Legends.  The  humor 
has  all  given  way  to  pathos  and  tenderness.  We  have  here 
the  innermost  heart  of  the  Celt  in  the  moments  he  has 
grown  to  love  through  years  of  persecution,  when,  cushion 
ing  himself  about  with  dreams,  and  hearing  fairy-songs  in 


INTRODUCTION.  ix 

the  twilight,  he  ponders  on   the   soul  and  on  the  dead. 
Here  is  the  Celt,  only  it  is  the  Celt  dreaming. 

Besides  these  are  two  writers  of  importance,  who  have 
published,  so  far,  nothing  in  book  shape — Miss  Letitia 
Maclintock  and  Mr.  Douglas  Hyde.  Miss  Maelintock 
writes  accurately  and  beautifully  the  half  Scotch  dialect 
of  Ulster ;  and  Mr.  Douglas  Hyde  is  now  preparing  a 
volumn  of  folk  tales  in  Gaelic,  having  taken  them  down, 
for  the  most  part,  Avord  for  word  among  the  Gaelic  speakers 
of  Uoseommon  and  Gal  way.  He  is,  perhaps,  most  to  be 
trusted  of  all.  He  knows  the  people  thoroughly.  Others 
see  a  phase  of  Irish  life ;  he  understands  all  its  elements. 
His  work  is  neither  humorous  nor  mournful;  it  is  simply 
life.  I  hope  he  may  put  some  of  his  gatherings  into 
ballads,  for  he  is  the  last  of  our  ballad- writers  of  the  school 
of  Walsh  and  Callanan — men  whose  work  seems  fragrant 
with  turf  smoke.  And  this  brings  to  mind  the  chap-hooks. 
They  are  to  be  found  brown  with  turf  smoke  on  cottage 
shelves,  and  are,  or  were,  sold  on  every  hand  by  the  pedlers, 
but  cannot  be  found  in  any  library  of  this  city  of  the 
Sassanach.  "The  Royal  Fairy  Tales,"  "  The  Hibernian 
Tales,"  and  "  The  Legends  of  the  Fairies"  are  the  fairy 
literature  of  the  people. 

Several  specimens  of  our  fairy  poetry  are  given.  It  is 
more  like  the  fairy  poetry  of  Scotland  than  of  England. 
'The  personages  of  English  fairy  literature  are  merely,  in 
most  cases,  mortals  beautifully  masquerading.  Nobody 
ever  believed  in  such  fairies.  They  are  romantic  bubbles 
from  Provence.  Nobody  ever  laid  new  milk  on  their 
doorstep  for  them. 

As  to  my  own  part  in  this  book,  I  have  tried  to  make 
it  representative,  as  far  as  so  few  pages  would  allow,  of 
every  kind  of  Irish  folk-faith.  The  reader  will  perhaps 
wonder  that  in  all  my  notes  I  have  not  rationalized  a  single 
hobgoblin.  I  seek  for  shelter  to  the  words  of  Socrates.* 

"  PJmdnts.     I   should  like  to  know,  Socrates,  Avhether 

*  Phcedrus.    Jowett's  translation.     (Clarendon  Press.) 


x  INTRODUCTION. 

the  place  is  not  somewhere  here  at  which  Boreas  is  said 
to  have  carried  off  Orithyia  from  the  banks  of  the 
Ilissus  ? 

"  Socrates.     That  is  the  tradition. 

"  Phcedrus.  And  is  this  the  exact  spot  ?  The  little 
stream  is  delightfully  clear  and  bright  ;  I  can  fancy  that 
there  might  be  maidens  playing  near. 

"  Socrates.  I  believe  the  spot  is  not  exactly  here,  but 
about  a  quarter-of-a-mile  lower  down,  where  you  cross  to 
the  temple  of  Artemis,  and  I  think  that  there  is  some  sort 
of  an  altar  of  Boreas  at  the  place. 

"P/icedrus.  I  do  not  recollect ;  but  I  beseech  you  to 
tell  me,  Socrates,  do  you  believe  this  tale  ? 

"  Socrates.  The  wise  are  doubtful,  and  I  should  not  be 
singular  if,  like  them,  I  also  doubted.  I  might  have  a 
rational  explanation  that  Orithyia  was  playing  with 
Pharmacia,  when  a  northern  gust  carried  her  over  the 
neighboring  rocks  ;  and  this  being  the  mariner  of  her 
death,  she  was  said  to  have  been  carried  away  by  Boreas. 
There  is  a  discrepancy,  however,  about  the  locality. 
According  to  another  version  of  the  story,  she  was  taken 
from  the  Areopagus,  and  not  from  this  pla  ce.  Now  I  quite 
acknowledge  that  these  allegories  are  very  nice,  but  he  is 
not  to  be  envied  who  has  to  invent  them ;  much  labor 
and  ingenuity  will  be  required  of  him  ;  and  when  he  has 
once  begun,  he  must  go  on  and  rehabilitate  centaurs  and 
chimeras  dire.  Gorgons  and  winged  steeds  flow  in  apace, 
and  numberless  other  inconceivable  and  portentous  mon 
sters.  And  if  he  is  skeptical  about  them,  and  would  fain 
reduce  them  one  after  another  to  the  rules  of  probability, 
this  sort  of  crude  philosophy  will  take  up  all  his  time. 
Now,  I  have  certainly  not  time  for  such  inquiries.  Shall  I 
tell  you  why  ?  I  must  first  know  myself,  as  the  Delphian 
inscription  says ;  to  be  curious  about  that  which  is  not  my 
business,  while  I  am  still  in  ignorance  of  my  own  self, 
would  be  ridiculous.  And,  therefore,  I  say  farewell  to  all 
this  ;  the  common  opinion  is  enough  for  me.  For,  as  I 
was  saying,  I  want  to  know  not  about  this,  but  about 


INTRODUCTION.  xi 

myself.  Am  I,  indeed,  a  wonder  more  complicated  and 
swollen  with  passion  than  the  serpent  Typho,  or  a  creature 
of  gentler  and  simpler  sort,  to  whom  nature  has  given  a 
diviner  and  lowlier  destiny  ?  " 


I  have  to  thank  Messrs  Macmillan,  and  the  editors  of 
Belgravia,  All  the  Year  Hound  and  Monthly  Packet 
for  leave  to  quote  from  Pa  trick  Kennedy's  Legendary 
Fictions  of  the  Iris] i  (1elt$,  and  Miss  Maclintock's  articles 
respectively  ;  Lady  Wilde,  for  leave  to  give  what  I  would 
from  her  Ancient  Ley  ends  of  Ireland  (Ward  &  Downey)  ; 
and  Mr.  Douglas  Hyde,  for  his  three  unpublished  stories, 
and  for  valuable  and  valued  assistance  in  several  ways  ; 
and  also  Mr.  Allingham,  and  other  copyright  holders,  for 
their  poems.  Mr.  Allinghanfs  poems  are  from  Jrixli, 
Sonys  and  .Poe)ns  (Reeves  and  Turner) ;  Ferguson's, 
from  Sealey,  Bryers,  &  Walker's  shilling  reprint  ;  my 
own  and  Miss  O'Leary's  from  Kallad*  and  J^oan*  of 
Youny  Ireland,  1888,  a  little  anthology  published  by  Gill 
&  Sons,  Dublin. 

W.  B.  YEATS. 


CONTENTS. 


PAfiK 

THE  FATE  OF  THE  CHILDREN  OF  LIE 1 

THE  TROOPING  FAIRIES 10 

The  Fairies 1 :{ 

Frank  Martin  and  the  Fairies 14 

The  Priest's  Supper  1 '.» 

The  Fairy  Well  of  Lagnanay 'J.'J 

Teig  O'Kane  and  the  Corpse 

Paddy  Corcoran's  Wife 

Cusheen  Loo 

The  White  Trout  ;  a  Legend  of  Cong 

The  Fairy  Thorn 

The  Legend  of  Knockgraf  ton 

A  Donegal  Fairy 

The  Black  Horse ,. 

CHANGELINGS 65 

The  Brewery  of  Egg-shells , (Mi 

The  Fairy  Nurse W 

Jamie  Freel  and  the  Young  Lady 70 

The  Stolen  Child 77 

Morraha s(> 

THE  MERKOW — 

The  Soul  Cages 04 

Flory  Cantillon's  Funeral 108 

The  Greek  Princess  and  the  Young  Gardener 1 1  :J 

THE  SOLITARY  FAIRIES 13o 

The  Lepracaun  :  or,  Fairy  Shoemaker 127 

Master  and  Man 129 

-    -•--  '     ~        --' 136 

xih 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

PACK 

THE  SOLITARY  FAIRIES  (continued)— 

ThePooka 140 

The  Piper  and  the  Puca 141 

Daniel  O'Rourke 144 

The  Kildare  Pooka 152 

The  Banshee , 155 

How  Thomas  Connolly  met  the  Banshee 156 

A  Lamentation  for  the  Death  of  Sir  Maurice  Fitzgerald.  159 
The  Banshee  of  the  MacCarthys 161 

GHOSTS 1 76 

A  Dream 177 

Grace  Connor 178 

A  Legend  of  Tyrone , 180 

The  Black  Lamb 182 

Song  of  the  Ghost 183 

The  Radiant  Boy 185 

The  Fate  of  Frank  M'Kenna 187 

Smallhead  and  the  King's  Sons 194 

WITCHES,  FAIRY  DOCTORS 211 

Bewitched  Butter  (Donegal) 216 

A  Queen's  County  Witch 217 

The  Witch  Hare  221 

Bewitched  Butter  (Queen's  County) 222 

The  Horned  Women 233 

The  Witches'  Excursion 236 

The  Confessions  of  Tom  Bourke 239 

The  Pudding  Bewitched 254 

T'YEER-NA-N-OGE 269 

The  Legend  of  O'Donoghue 270 

Rent-Day 272 

Loughleagh  (Lake  of  Healing) 275 

Hy-Brasail.  —The  Isle  of  the  Blest 281 

The  Phantom  Isle 283 

SAINTS.  PRIESTS 285 

The  Priest's  Soul 286 

The  Priest  of  Coloony 292 

The  Story  of  the  Little  Bird 294 

Conversion  of  King  Laoghaire's  Daughters 296 

King  O'Toole  and  his  (joose 297 

The  Leeching  of  Kayn's  Leg . .  301 


CONTENTS.  XV 

PAGE 

THE  DEVIL— 

The  Demon  Cat 322 

The  Long  Spoon 324 

The  Countess  Kathleen  O'Shea 325 

The  Three  Wishes 329 

GIANTS— 

The  Giant's  Stairs 355 

A  Legend  of  Knockmany 361 

KINGS,  QUEENS,  PRINCESSES,  EARLS,  ROBBERS— 

The  Twelve  Wild  Geese 376 

The  Lazy  Beauty  and  her  Aunts 382 

The  Haughty  Princess 387 

The  Enchantment  of  Gearoidh  larla 390 

Munachar  and  Manachar 392 

Donald  and  his  Neighbors 39G 

The  Jackdaw 400 

The  Story  of  Conn-eda 403 


THE  FATE  QF  THE  CHILDREN   OF   UK. 

IT  happened  that  the  five  Kilig*  of  Jiyland  rici  to  de- 
tenniiie  who  should  have  the  h.nul  kingship  over  them, 
and  King  Lir  of  the  Hill  ol  tl.e  Whi^  Fmk>  (.xpM/ted 
surely  he  would  be  elected.  V/hen  the  nobles  went  into 
council  together  they  chose  for  head  king,  Dearg,  son  of 
Daghda,  because  his  father  had  been  so  great  a  Druid 
and  he  was  the  eldest  of  his  father's  sons.  But  Lir  left 
the  assembly  of  the  Kings  and  went  home  to  the  Hill  of 
the  White  Field.  The  other  kings  would  have  followed 
after  Lir  to  give  him  wounds  of  spear  and  wounds  of 
sword  for  not  yielding  obedience  to  the  man  to  whom 
they  had  given  the  over-lordship.  But  Dearg  the  king 
would  not  hear  of  it  and  said  :  "  Rather  let  us  bind  him 
to  us  by  the  bonds  of  kinship,  so  that  peace  may  dwell 
in  the  land.  Send  over  to  him  for  wife  the  choice  of  the 
three  maidens  of  the  fairest  form  and  best  repute  in  Erin, 
the  three  daughters  of  Oilell  of  Aran,  my  own  three 
bosom-nurslings." 

So  the  messengers  brought  word  to  Lir  that  Dearg  the 
king  would  give  him  a  foster-child  of  his  foster-children. 

1 


2  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Lir  thought  well  of  it,  and  set  out  next  day  with  fifty 
chariots  from  the  Hill  of  the  White  Field.  And  he  came 
to  the  Lake  of  the  Red  Eye  near  Killaloe.  And  when 
Lir  saw  the  three  daughters  of  Oilell,  Dearg  the  king 
said  to  him  :  "  Take  thy  choice  of  the  maidens,  Lir."  "  I 
know  not,"  said  Lir,  "  which  is  the  choicest  of  them  all ; 
but  the  eldest  of  them  is  the  noblest,  it  is  she  I  had  best 
take."  "  If  so,"  said  Dearg  the  king,  "  Ove  is  the  eldest, 
and  she  shall  be  given  to  thee,  if  thou  wiliest."  So  Lir 
and  Ove  were  married  and  went  back  to  the  Hill  of  the 
White  Field. 

And  after  this  there  came  to  them  twins,  a  son  and 
a  daughter,  and  they  gave  them  for  names  Fingula  and 
Aod.  And  two  more  sons  came  to  them,  Fiachra  and 
Conn.  When  they  came  Ove  died,  and  Lir  mourned 
bitterly  for  her,  and  but  for  his  great  love  for  his  children 
he  would  have  died  of  his  grief.  And  Dearg  the  king 
grieved  for  Lir  and  sent  to  him  and  said :  '  We  grieve 
-for  Ove  for  thy  sake  ;  but,  that  our  friendship  may  not, 
be  rent  asunder,  I  will  give  unto  thee  her  sister,  Oifa,  for 
a  wife."  So  Lir  agreed,  and  they  were  united,  and  he 
took  her  with  him  to  his  own  house.  And  at  first  Oifa 
felt  affection  and  honor  for  the  children  of  Lir  and  her 
sister,  and  indeed  every  one  who  saw  the  four  children 
could  not  help  giving  them  the  love  of  his  soul.  Lir  doted 
upon  the  children,  and  they  always  slept  in  beds  in  front 
of  their  father,  who  used  to  rise  at  early  dawn  every 
morning  and  lie  down  among  his  children.  But  there 
upon  the  dart  of  jealousy  passed  into  Oifa  on  account  of 
this  and  she  came  to  regard  the  children  with  hatred  and 
enmity.  One  day  her  chariot  was  yoked  for  her  and  she 
took  with  her  the  four  children  of  Lir  in  it.  Fingula 
was  not  willing  to  go  with  her  on  the  journey,  for  she 
had  dreamed  a  dream  in  the  night  warning  her  against 
Oifa  :  but  she  was  not  to  avoid  her  fate.  And  when  the 
chariot  came  to  the  Lake  of  the  Oaks,  Oifa  said  to  the 
people :  "  Kill  the  four  children  of  Lir  and  I  will  give 
you  your  own  reward  of  every  kind  in  the  world,"  But 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  CHILDREN  OF  LIR.  3 

they  refused  and  told  her  it  was  an  evil  thought  she  had. 
Then  she  would  have  raised  a  sword  herself  to  kill  and 
destroy  the  children,  but  her  own  womanhood  and  her 
weakness  prevented  her  ;  so  she  drove  the  children  of  Lir 
into  the  lake  to  bathe,  and  they  did  as  Oifa  told  them. 
As  soon  as  they  were  upon  the  lake  she  struck  them  with 
a  Druid's  wand  of  spells  and  wizardry  and  put  them  into 
the  forms  of  four  beautiful,  perfectly  white  swans,  and 
she  sang  this  song  over  them : 

"  Out  with  you  upon  the  wild  waves,  children  of  the  king  ! 
Henceforth  your  cries  shall  be  with  the  flocks  of  birds." 

And  Fingula  answered : 

"  Thou  witch  !  we  know  tliee  by  thy  right  name  ! 
Thou  mayest  drive  us  from  wave  to  wave, 
But  sometimes  we  shall  rest  on  the  headlands  ; 
We  shall  receive  relief,  but  thou  punishment. 
Though  our  bodies  may  be  upon  the  lake. 
Our  minds  at  least  shall  fly  homewards." 

And  again  she  spoke  :  "  Assign  an  end  for  the  ruin  and 
woe  which  thou  hast  brought  upon  us." 

Oifa  laughed  and  said :  "  Never  shall  ye  be  free  until 
the  woman  from  the  south  be  united  to  the  man  from 
the  north,  until  Lairgnen  of  Connaught  wed  Deoch  of 
Minister ;  nor  shall  any  have  power  to  bring  you  out  of 
these  forms.  Nine  hundred  years  shall  you  wander  over 
the  lakes  and  streams  of  Erin.  This  only  I  will  grant 
unto  you :  that  you  retain  your  own  speech,  and  there 
shall  be  no  music  in  the  world  equal  to  yours,  the  plain 
tive  music  you  shall  sing."  This  she  said  because  re 
pentance  seized  her  for  the  evil  she  had  done. 

And  then  she  spake  this  lay  : 

'•'  Away  from  me,  ye  children  of  Lir, 
Henceforth  the  sport  of  the  wild  winds 
Until  Lairgnen  and  Deoch  come  together, 
Until  ye  are  on  the  north- west  of  Red  Erin. 


4  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  A  sword  of  treachery  is  through  the  heart  of  Lir, 
Of  Lir  the  mighty  champion, 
Yet  though  I  have  driven  a  sword. 
My  victory  cuts  me  to  the  heart.'' 

Then  she  turned  her  steeds  and  went  on  to  the  Hall  of 
Dearg  the  king.  The  nobles  of  the  court  asked  her  where 
were  the  children  of  Lir,  and  Oifa  said :  "  Lir  will  not 
trust  them  to  Dearg  the  king."  But  Dearg  thought  in 
his  own  mind  that  the  woman  had  played  some  treachery 
upon  them,  and  he  accordingly  sent  messengers  to  the 
Hall  of  the  White  Field. 

Lir  asked  the  messengers  :  "  Wherefore  are  ye  come  ?  " 

"  To  fetch  thy  children,  Lir,"  said  they. 

"  Have  they  not  reached  you  with  Oifa  ?  "  said  Lir. 

"  They  have  not,"  said  the  messengers ;  "  and  Oifa  said 
it  was  you  would  not  let  the  children  go  with  her;" 

Then  was  Lir  melancholy  and  sad  at  heart,  hearing  these 
things,  for  he  knew  that  Oifa  had  done  wrong  upon  his 
children,  and  he  set  out  towards  the  Lake  of  the  Red  Eye. 
And  when  the  children  of  Lir  saw  him  coming  Fingula 
sang  the  lay : 

"  Welcome  the  cavalcade  of  steeds 
Approaching  the  Lake  of  the  Red  Eye, 
A  company  dread  and  magical 
Surely  seek  after  us. 

"  Let  us  move  to  the  shore,  O  Aod. 
Fiachra  and  comely  Conn, 
No  host  under  heaven  can  those  horsemen  be 
But  King  Lir  with  his  mighty  household." 

Now  as  she  said  this  King  Lir  had  come  to  the  shores 
of  the  lake  and  heard  the  swans  speaking  with  human 
voices.  And  he  spake  to  the  swans  and  asked  them  who 
they  were.  Fingula  answered  and  said :  "  We  are  thy 
own  children,  ruined  by  thy  wife,  sister  of  our  own  mother, 
though  her  ill  mind  and  her  jealousy."  "  For  how  long 
is  the  spell  to  be  upon  you  ?"  said  Lir.  "  None  can  relieve 
us  till  the  woman  from  the  south  and  the  man  from  the 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  CHILDREN  OF  LIR.  5 

north  come  together,  till  Lairgnen  of  Connaught  wed 
Deoch  of  Minister." 

Then  Lir  and  his  people  raised  their  shouts  of  grief, 
crying,  and  lamentation,  and  they  stayed  by  the  shore  of 
the  lake  listening  to  the  wild  music  of  the  swans  until 
the  swans  flew  away,  and  King  Lir  went  on  to  the  Hall 
of  Dearg  the  king.  He  told  Dearg  the  king  what  Oifa 
had  done  to  his  children.  And  Dearg  put  his  power  upon 
Oifa  and  bade  her  say  what  shape  on  earth  she  would 
think  the  worst  of  all.  She  said  it  would  be  in  the  form 
of  an  air-demon.  "  It  is  into  that  form  I  shall  put  you," 
said  Dearg  the  king,  and  he  struck  her  with  a  Druid's 
wand  of  spells  and  wizardry  and  put  her  into  the  form  of 
an  air-demon.  And  she  flew  away  at  once,  and  she  is  st^ll 
an  air-demon,  and  shall  be  so  forever. 

l>ut  the  children  of  Lir  continued  to  delight  the  Milesian 
_clans  with  the  very  sweet  fairy  music  of  their  songs,  so 
that  no  delight  was  ever  heard  in  Erin  to  compare  with 
their  music  until  the  time  came  appointed  for  the  leaving 
the  Lake  of  the  Red  Eye. 

Then  Fingula  sang  this  parting  lay  : 

"  Farewell  to  thee,  Dearg  the  king, 
Master  of  all  Druid's  lore  I 
Farewell  to  thee,  our  father  dear, 
Lir  of  the  Hill  of  the  White  Field  ! 

"  We  go  to  pass  the  appointed  time 
Away  and  apart  from  the  haunts  of  men 
In  the  current  of  the  Moyle, 
Our  garb  shall  be  bitter  and  briny, 

"  Until  Deoch  come  to  Lairgnen. 
So  come,  ye  brothers  of  once  ruddy  cheeks  ; 
Let  us  depart  from  this  Lake  of  the  Red  Eye, 
Let  us  separate  in  sorrow  from  the  tribe  that  has 
loved  us." 

And  after  they  took  to  flight,  flying  highly,  lightly,  aerially 
till  they  reached  the  Moyle,  between  Erin  and  Albain. 
The  men  of  Erin  were  grieved  at  their  leaving,  and  it 


G  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

was  proclaimed  throughout  Erin  that  henceforth  no  swan 
should  be  killed.  Then  they  stayed  all  solitary,  all  alone, 
filled  with  cold  and  grief  and  regret,  until  a  thick  tempest 
came  upon  them  and  Fingula  said  :  "  Brothers,  let  us  ap 
point  a  place  to  meet  again  if  the%  power  of  the  winds 
separate  us."  And  they  said  :  "  Let  us  appoint  to  meet, 
O  sister,  at  the  Rock  of  the  Seals."  Then  the  waves  rose 
up  and  the  thunder  roared,  the  lightnings  flashed,  the 
sweeping  tempest  passed  over  the  sea,  so  that  the  children 
of  Lir  were  scattered  from  each  other  over  the  great  sea. 
There  came,  however,  a  placid  calm  after  the  great  tem 
pest  and  Fingula  found  herself  alone,  and  she  said  this 
lay. 

"  Woe  upon  me  that  I  am  alive  ! 
My  wings  are  frozen  to  my  sides. 

0  beloved  three,  O  beloved  three, 

Who  hid  under  the  shelter  of  my  feathers, 
Until  the  dead  come  back  to  the  living 

1  and  the  three  shall  never  meet  again  ! " 

And  she  flew  to  the  Lake  of  the  Seals  and  soon  saw 
Conn  coming  towards  her  with  heavy  step  and  drenched 
feathers,  and  Fiachra  also,  cold  and  wet  and  faint,  and  no 
word  could  they  tell,  so  cold  and  faint  were  they  :  but  she 
nestled  them  under  her  wings  and  said :  "  If  Aod  could 
come  to  us  now  our  happiness  would  be  complete."  But 
soon  they  saw  Aod  coming  towards  them  with  dry  head 
and  preened  feathers  :  Fingula  put  him  under  the  feathers 
of  her  breast,  and  Fiachra  under  her  right  wing,  and  Conn 
under  her  left :  and  they  made  this  lay  : 

"  Bad  was  our  stepmother  with  us, 
She  played  her  magic  on  us, 
Sending  us  north  on  the  sea 
In  the  shapes  of  magical  swans. 

"Our  bath  upon  the  shore's  ridge 
Is  the  foam  of  the  brine-crested  tide, 
Our  share  of  the  ale  feast 
Is  the  brine  of  the  blue-crested  sea." 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  CHILDREN  OF  LIR.  7 

One  day  they  saw  a  splendid  cavalcade  of  pure  white 
steeds  coming  towards  them,  and  when  they  came  near 
they  were  the  two  sons  of  Dearg  the  king  who  had  been 
seeking  for  them  to  give  them  news  of  Dearg  the  king 
and  Lir  their  father.  "  They  are  well/'  they  said,  "  and 
live  together  happy  in  all  except  that  ye  are  not  with 
them,  and  for  not  knowing  where  ye  have  gone  since  the 
day  ye  left  the  Lake  of  the  Red  Eye."  "  Happy  are  not 
we,"  said  Fingula,  and  she  sang  this  song  : 

"  Happy  this  night  the  household  of  Lir, 
Abundant  their  meat  and  their  wine. 
But  the  children  of  Lir—  what  is  their  lot? 
For  bed-clothes  we  have  our  feathers, 
And  as  for  our  food  and  our  wine  — 
The  white  sand  and  the  bitter  brine, 
Fiachra's  bed  and  Conn's  place 
Under  the  cover  of  my  wings  on  the  Movie, 
Aod  has  the  shelter  of  my  breast, 
And  so  side  by  side  we  rest/' 

So  the   sons  of  Dearg  the  king  came  to   the  Hall  of  Lir 
and  told  the  king  the  condition  of  his  children. 

Then  the  time  came  for  the  children  of  Lir  to  fulfil  their 
lot,  and  they  new  in  the  current  of  the  Movie  to  the  Bay 
of  Erris,  and  remained  there  till  the  time  of  their  fate, 
and  then  they  iiew  to  the  Hill  of  the  White  Field  and 
found  all  desolate  and  empty,  with  nothing  but  unroofed 
green  raths  and  forests  of  nettles  —  no  house,  no  fire,  no 
dwelling-place.  The  fcur  came  close  together,  and  they 
raised  three  shouts  of  lamentation  aloud,  and  Fingula 
sang  this  lay  : 


J  it  is  bitterness  to  my  heart 
To  see  my  father's  place  forlorn  — 
No  hounds,  no  packs  of  dogs, 
No  women,  and  no  valiant  kings 

"  No  drinking-horns,  no  cups  of  wood, 
No  drinking  in  its  lightsome  halls. 
Uchone  !  I  see  the  state  of  this  house 
That  its  lord  our  father  lives  uo  more. 


8  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  Much  have  we  suffered  in  our  wandering  years, 
By  winds  buffeted,  by  cold  frozen  ; 
Now  has  come  the  greatest  of  our  pain — 
There  lives  no   man  who   knovveth  us  in  the  house 
where  we  were  born." 

So  the  children  of  Lir  flew  away  to  the  Glory  Isle  of 
Brandan  the  saint,  and  they  settled  upon  the  Lake  of  the 
Birds  until  the  holy  Patrick  came  to  Erin  and  the  holy 
Mac  Howg  came  to  Glory  Isle. 

And  the  first  night  he  came  to  the  island  the  children 
of  Lir  heard  the  voice  of  liis  bell  ringing  for  matins,  so 
that  they  started  and  leaped  about  in  terror  at  hearing  it ; 
and  her  brothers  left  Fingula  alone.  "  What  is  it,  beloved 
brothers  ?  "  said  she.  "  We  know  not  what  faint,  fear 
ful  voice  it  is  we  have  heard."  Then  Fingula  recited  this 
lay: 

"  Listen  to  the  Cleric's  bell, 
Poise  your  wings  and  raise 
Thanks  to  God  for  his  coming, 
Be  grateful  that  you  hear  him, 

"  He  shall  free  you  from  pain, 
And  bring  you  from  the  rocks  and  stones. 
Ye  comely  children  of  Lir 
Listen  to  the  bell  of  the  Cleric." 


And  Mac  Howg  came  down  to  the  brink  of  the  shore 
and  said  to  them :  "  Are  ye  the  children  of  Lir  ?  "  "  We 
are  indeed,"  said  they.  "  Thanks  be  to  God !  "  said  the 
saint ;  "  it  is  for  your  sakes  I  have  come  to  this  Isle  be 
yond  every  other  island  in  Erin.  Come  ye  to  land  now 
and  put  your  trust  in  me."  So  they  came  to  land,  and 
he  made  for  them  chains  of  bright  white  silver,  and  put  a 
chain  between  Aod  and  Fingula  and  a  chain  between 
Conn  and  Fiachra. 

It  happened  at  this  time  that  Lairgnen  was  prince  of 
Connaught  and  he  was  to  wed  Deoch  the  daughter  of  the 
king  of  Minister.  She  had  heard  the  account  of  the  birds 
and  she  became  filled  with  love  and  affection  for  them, 


THE  FATE  OF  THE  CHILDREN  OF  LIR.  9 

and  she  said  she  would  not  wed  till  she  had  the  wondrous 
birds  of  Glory  Isle.  Lairgnen  sent  for  them  to  the  Saint 
Mac  Howg.  But  the  Saint  would  not  give  them,  and 
hoth  Lairgnen  and  Deoch  went  to  Glory  Isle.  And 
Lairgnen  went  to  seize  the  birds  from  the  altar :  but  as 
soon  as  he  had  laid  hands  on  them  their  feathery  coats 
fell  off,  and  the  three  sons  of  Lir  became  three  withered 
bony  old  men,  and  Fingula,  a  lean  withered  old  woman 
without  blood  or  flesh.  Lairgnen  started  at  this  and  left 
the  place  hastily,  but  Fingula  chanted  this  lay : 

"  Come  and  baptise  us,  O  Cleric, 
Clear  away  our  stains  ! 
This  day  I  see  our  grave — 
Fiachra  and  Conn  on  each  side, 
And  in  my  lap,  between  my  two  arms, 
Place  Aod,  my  beauteous  brother." 

After  this  lay,  the  children  of  Lir  were  baptised.  And 
they  died,  and  were  buried  as  Fingula  had  said,  Fiachra 
and  Conn  on  either  side,  and  Aod  before  her  face.  A 
cairn  was  raised  for  them,  and  on  it  their  names  were 
written  in  runes.  And  that  is  the  fate  of  the  children  of 
Lir. 


THE  TROOPING  FAIEIES. 

THE  Irish  word  for  fairy  is  sheehogue  \_sidheog^  a  dim 
inutive  of  "  shee  "  in  banshee.  Fairies  are  deenee  s/iee 
\_daoihe  sidhe~\  (fairy  people). 

Who  are  they  ?  "  Fallen  angels  who  were  not  good 
enough  to  be  saved,  nor  bad  enough  to  be  lost,"  say  the 
peasantry.  "  The  gods  of  the  earth,"  says  the  Book  of 
Armagh.  "The  gods  of  pagan  Ireland,"  say  the  Irish 
antiquarians,  "  the  Tuatha  De  l)<nuln,  who,  when  no 
longer  worshiped  and  fed  with  offerings,  dwindled  away 
in  the  popular  imagination,  and  now  are  only  a  few  spans 
high." 

And  they  will  tell  you,  in  proof,  that  the  names  of  fairy 
chiefs  are  the  names  of  old  Da-nan  heroes,  and  the  places 
where  they  especially  gather  together,  Danan  burying- 
places,  and  that  the  luath  De  Danan  used  also  to  be 
called  the  slooa-shee  \_sheagh  sidhe~\  (the  fairy  host),  or 
Mar  era  shee  (the  fairy  cavalcade). 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  much  evidence  to  prove 
them  fallen  angels.  Witness  the  nature  of  the  creatures, 
their  caprice,  their  way  of  being  good  to  the  good  and  evil, 
to  the  evil  having  every  charm  but  conscience — consistency. 
Beings  so  quickly  offended  that  you  must  not  speak  much 
about  them  at  all,  and  never  call  them  anything  but  the 
"gentry,"  or  else  daoine  maithe,  which  in  English  means 
good  people,  yet  so  easily  pleased,  they  will  do  their  best 
to  keep  misfortune  away  from  you,  if  you  leave  a  little 
milk  for  them  on  the  window-sill  over  night.  On  the 
whole,  the  popular  belief  tells  us  most  about  them,  telling 
us  IIOAV  they  fell,  and  yet  were  not  lost,  because  their  evil 
was  wholly  without  malice. 
10 


THE  TROOPING  FAIRIES.  1  1 

Are  they  "  the  gods  of  the  earth?  "  *  Perhaps  !  Many 
poets,  ami  all  mystic  and  occult  writers,  in  all  ages  and 
countries,  have  declared  that  behind  the  visible  are  chains 
on  chains  of  conscious  beings,  who  are  not  of  heaven  but 
of  the  earth,  who  have  no  inherent  form  but  change  ac 
cording  to  their  whim,  or  the  mind  that  sees  them.  You 
cannot  lift  your  hand  without  influencing  and  being  in 
fluenced  by  hoards.  The  visible  world  is  merely  their 
skin.  In  dreams  we  go  amongst  them,  and  play  with 
them,  and  combat  with  them.  They  are,  perhaps,  human 
souls  in  the  crucible — these  creatures  of  whim. 

Do  not  think  the,  fairies  are  always  little.  Everything 
is  capricious  about  them,  even  their  size.  They  seem  to 
take  what  size  or  shape  pleases  them.  Their  chief  occu 
pations  are  feasting,  righting,  and  making  love,  and  play 
ing  the  most  beautiful  music.  They  have  only  one  in 
dustrious  person  amongst  them,  the  l<j>r<t-<-<iK» — the  shoe 
maker.  Perhaps  they  wear  their  shoes  out  witli  danc 
ing.  Near  the  village  of  Ballisodarc  is  a.  little  woman 
who  lived  amongst  them  seven  years.  When  she  came 
home  she  had  no  toes — she,  had  danced  them  off. 

They  have  three  great  festivals  in  the  year— May 
Eve,  Midsummer  Eve,  November  Eve.  On  31  ay  Eve, 
every  seventh  year,  they  fight  all  round,  but  mostly  on 
the  "  Plain-a-Bawn  "  (wherever  that  is),  for  the  harvest, 
for  the  best  ears  of  grain  belong  to  them.  An  old  man 
told  me  he  saw  them  fight  once  ;  they  tore  the  thatch  off 

*  Occultists,  from  Paracelsus  to  Elephas  Levi,  divide  the  na 
ture  spirits  into  gnomes,  sylphs,  salamanders,  undines  ;  or  earth, 
air,  fire,  and  water  spirits.  Their  emperors,  according  to  Ele 
phas,  are  named  Cob,  Paralda,  Djin,  Hicks  respectively.  The 
gnomes  are  covetous,  and  of  the  melancholic  temperament. 
Their  usual  height  is  but  two  spans,  though  they  can  elongate 
themselves  into  giants.  The  sylphs  are  capricious,  and  of  the 
bilious  temperament.  They  are  in  size  and  strength  much 
greater  than  men,  as  becomes  the  people  of  the  winds.  The 
salamanders  are  wrathful,  and  in  temperament  sanguine.  In 
appearance  they  are  long,  lean,  and  dry.  The  undines  are  soft, 
cold,  fickle,  and  phlegmatic.  In  appearance  they  are  like  man. 
The  salamanders  and  sylphs  have  no  fixed  dwellings. 


1 2  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

a  house  in  the  midst  of  it  all.  Had  any  one  else  been 
near  they  would  merely  have  seen  a  great  wind  whirl 
ing  everything  into  the  air  as  it  passed.  When  the 
wind  makes  the  straws  and  leaves  whirl  as  it  passes, 
that  is  the  fairies,  and  the  peasantry  take  off  their  hats 
and  say,  "  God  bless  them." 

On  Midsummer  Eve.  when  the  bonfires  are  lighted 
on  every  hill  in  honor  of  St.  John,  the  fairies  are  at  their 
gayest,  and  sometimes  steal  away  beautiful  mortals  to  be 
their  brides. 

On  November  Eve  they  are  at  their  gloomiest,  for,  ac 
cording  to  the  old  Gaelic  reckoning,  this  is  the  first  night 
of  winter.  This  night  they  dance  with  the  ghosts,  and 
the  pooka  is  abroad,  and  witches  make  their  spells,  and 
girls  set  a  table  with  food  in  the  name  of  the  devil,  that 
the  fetch  of  their  future  lover  may  come  through  the 
window  and  eat  of  the  food.  After  November  Eve  the 
blackberries  are  no  longer  wholesome,  for  the  pooka  has 
spoiled  them. 

When  they  are  angry  they  paralyze  men  and  cattle 
with  their  fairy  darts. 

When  they  are  gay  they  sing.  Many  a  poor  girl  has 
heard  them,  and  pined  away  and  died,  for  love  of  that 
singing.  Plenty  of  the  old  beautiful  tunes  of  Ireland  are 
only  their  music,  caught  up  by  eavesdroppers.  No  wise 
peasant  would  hum  "  The  Pretty  Girl  milking  the  Cow  " 
near  a  fairy  rath,  for  they  are  jealous,  and  do  not  like  to 
hear  their  songs  on  clumsy  mortal  lips.  Carolan,  the  last 
of  the  Irish  bards,  slept  on  a  rath,  and  ever  after  the  fairy 
tunes  ran  in  his  head,  and  made  him  the  great  man  lie 
was. 

Do  they  die?  Blake  saw  a  fairy's  funeral;  but  in 
Ireland  we  say  they  are  immortal. 


THE  FAIRIES.  13 

THE  FAIRIES. 

WILLIAM    ALLIXGHAM. 

UP  the  airy  mountain, 

Down  the  rushy  glen, 
We  dareift  go  a  hunting 

For  fear  of  little  men ; 
Wee  folk,  good  folk, 

Trooping  all  together ; 
Green  jacket,  red  cap, 

And  white  owl's  feather ! 

Down  along  the  rocky  shore 

Some  make  their  home, 
They  live  on  crispy  pancakes 

Of  yellow  tide-foam ; 
Some  in  the  reeds 

Of  the  black  mountain  lake, 
With  frogs  for  their  watch-dogs, 

All  night  awake. 

High  on  the  hill-top 

The  old  King  sits  ; 
He  is  now  so  old  and  gray 

He's  nigh  lost  his  wits. 
With  a  bridge  of  white  mist 

Columbkill  he  crosses, 
On  his  stately  journeys 

From  Slieveleague  to  Rosses ; 
Or  going  up  with  music 

On  cold  starry  nights, 
To  sup  with  the  Queen 

Of  the  gay  Northern  Lights. 

They  stole  little  Bridget 
For  seven  years  long ; 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

When  she  came  down  again 

Her  friends  were  all  gone. 
They  took  her  lightly  back, 

Between  the  night  and  morrow, 
They  thought  that  she  was  fast  asleep, 

But  she  was  dead  with  sorrow. 
They  have  kept  her  ever  since 

Deep  within  the  lake, 
On  a  bed  of  flag-leaves, 

Watching  till  she  wake. 

By  the  craggy  hill-side, 

Through  the  mosses  bare, 
They  have  planted  thorn-trees 

For  pleasure  here  and  there. 
Is  any  man  so  daring 

As  dig  them  up  in  spite, 
He  shall  flnd  their  sharpest  thorns 

In  his  bed  at  night. 

Up  the  airy  mountain, 

Down  the  rushy  glen, 
We  daren't  go  a-hunting 

For  fear  of  little  men ; 
Wee  folk,  good  folk, 

Trooping  all  together ; 
Green  jacket,  red  cap, 

And  white  owl's  feather ! 


FRANK  MARTIN  AND  THE  FAIRIES. 

WILLIAM    CAKLETON. 

MARTIX  was  a  thin  pale  man,  when  I  saw  him,  of  a 
sickly  look,  and  a  constitution  naturally  feeble.  His 
hair  was  a  light  auburn,  his  beard  mostly  unshaven,  and 
his  hands  of  a  singular  delicacy  and  whiteness,  owing,  I 


FRANK  MARTIN  AND  THE  FAIRIES.  15 

dare  say,  as  much  to  the  soft  and  easy  nature  of  his  em 
ployment  as  to  his  infirm  health.  In  everything  else  ^e 
was  as  sensible,  sober,  and  rational  as  any  other  man; 
but  on  the  topic  of  fairies,  the  man's  mania  was  peculiarly 
strong  and  immovable.  Indeed,  I  remember  that 
the  expression  of  his  eyes  was  singularly  wild  and 
hollow,  and  his  long  narrow  temples  sallow  and  emaci 
ated. 

Now,  this  man  did  not  lead  an  unhappy  life,  nor  did 
the  malady  he  labored  under  seem  to  be  productive  of 
either  pain  or  terror  to  him,  although  one  might  be  apt 
to  imagine  otherwise.  On  the  contrary,  he  and  the 
fairies  maintained  the  most  friendly  intimacy,  and  their 
dialogues — which  I  fear  Avere  wofully  one-sided  ones — 
must  have  been  a  source  of  great  pleasure  to  him,  for  they 
were  conducted  with  much  mirth  and  laughter,  on  his 
part  at  least. 

"  Well,  Frank,  when  did  you  see  the  fairies?" 

"  Whist  !  there's  two  dozen  of  them  in  the  shop  (the 
weaving  shop)  this  minute.  There's  a  little  ould  fellow 
sittin'  on  the  top  of  the  sleys,  an'  all  to  be  rocked  while 
I'm  weavin'.  The  sorrow's  in  them,  but  they're  the 
greatest  little  skarners  alive,  so  they  are.  See,  there's 
another  of  them  at  my  dressin'  noggin.*  Go  out  o'  that, 
you  xlitn'ti<nrn.  :  or,  bad  cess  to  me,  if  you  don't,  but  Til 
lave  you  a  mark.  Ha!  cut,  you  thief  you!" 

"  Frank,  arn't  you  afeard  o'  them  ?" 

"Is  it  me!  Arra,  what  ud' I  be  afeard  o' them  for? 
Sure  they  have  no  power  over  me." 

"  And  why  haven't  they,  Frank?" 

"  Because  I  was  baptized  against  them." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  Why,  the  priest  that  christened  me  was  tould  by  my 
father,  to  put  in  the  proper  prayer  against  the  fairies — 
an'  a  priest  can't  refuse  it  when  he's  asked— an'  he  did  so. 

*  The  dressings  are  a  species  of  sizy  flummery,  which  is  brushed 
into  the  yarn  to  keep  the  thread  round  and  even,  and  to  prevent 
it  from  being  frayed  by  the  friction  of  the  reed. 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

it's  well  for  me  that  he  did — (let  the  tallow 
alone,  you  little  glutton — see,  there's  a  weeny  thief  <V 
them  aitin'  my  tallow) — becaise,  you  see,  it  was  their  in 
tention  to  make  me  king  o'  the  fairies." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"Devil  a  lie  in  it.  Sure  you  may  ax  them,  an'  they'll 
tell  you." 

"  What  size  are  they,  Frank  ?  " 

"  Oh,  little  wee  fellows,  with  green  coats,  an'  the  purt  iest 
little  shoes  ever  you  seen.  There's  two  of  them — both 
ould  acquaintances  o'  mine — ruimin'  along  the  yarn-beam. 
That  ould  fellow  with  the  bob-Avig  is  called  Jim  Jam,  an' 
the  other  chap,  with  the  three-cocked  hat,  is  called  Xickev 
Nick.  Nickey  plays  the  pipes.  Nickey,  give  us  a  tune, 
or  I'll  malivogue  you — come  now,  '  Lough  Erne  Shore.' 
Whist,  now — listen  !  " 

The  poor  fellow,  though  weaving  as  fast  as  he  could  all 
the  time,  yet  bestowed  every  possible  mark  of  attention 
to  the  music,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it  as  much  as  if  it  had 
been  real. 

But  who  can  tell  whether  that  which  we  look  upon  as 
a  privation  may  not  after  all  be  a  fountain  of  increased 
happiness,  greater,  perhaps,  than  any  which  we  ourselves 
enjoy  ?  I  forget  who  the  poet  is  who  says— 

"  Mysterious  are  thy  laws  ; 
The  vision's  finer  than  the  view  ; 
Her  landscape  Nature  never  drew 

So  fair  as  Fancy  draws." 

Many  a  time,  when  a  mere  child,  not  more  than  six  or 
seven  years  of  age, have  I  gone  as  far  as  Frank's  weaving- 
shop,  in  order,  with  a  heart  divided  bet  ween  curiosity  and 
fear,  to  listen  to  his  conversation  with  the  good  peopl< •. 
From  morning  till  night  bis  tongue  AV;IS  going  almost  as 
incessantly  as  his  shuttle  ;  and  it  was  well  known  that  at 
night,  whenever  he  awoke  out  of  his  sleep,  the  first  tiling 
he  did  was  to  put  out  his  hand,  and  push  them,  as  it  were, 
off  his  bed. 


FRANK  MARTIN  AND  THE  FAIRIES.  17 

«  Go  out  o'  this,  you  thieves,  you — go  out  o'  this  now, 
an'  let  me  alone.  Nickey,  is  this  any  time  to  be  playing 
the  pipes,  and  me  wants  to  sleep  ?  Go  off,  now — troth  if 
yez  do,  you'll  see  what  I'll  give  yez  to-morrow.  Sure  111 
be  makin'  new  dressings ;  and  if  yez  behave  decently, 
maybe  I'll  lave  yez  the  scrapin'  o'  the  pot.  There  now. 
Och !  poor  things,  they're  dacent  erathurs.  Sure  they're 
all  gone,  barrin'  poor  Red-cap,  that  doesn't  like  to 
lave  me."  And  then  the  harmless  monomaniac  would 
fall  back  into  what  we  trust  was  an  innocent  slum 
ber. 

About  this  time  there  was  said  to  have  occurred  a  very 
remarkable  circumstance,  which  gave  poor  Frank  a  vast 
deal  of  importance  among  the  neighbors.  A  man  named 
Frank  Thomas,  the  same  in  whose  house  Mickey  M'Korey 
held  the  first  dance  at  which  I  ever  saw  him,  as  detailed  in 
a  former  sketch  ;  this  man,  I  say,  had  a  child  sick,  but  of 
what  complaint-  I  cannot  now  remember,  nor  is  it  of  any 
importance.  One  of  the  gables  of  Thomas's  house  was 
built  against,  or  rather  into,  a  Forth  or  Itath, called  Towny, 
or  properly  Tonagh  Forth.  It  was  said  to  be  haunted  by 
the  fairies,  and  what  gave  it  a  character  peculiarly  wild  in 
my  eyes  was,  that  there  were  on  the  southern  side  of  it  two 
or  three  little  green  mounds,  which  were  said  to  be  the, 
graves  of  unchristened  children,  over  which  it  was  con 
sidered  dangerous  and  unlucky  to  pass.  At  all  events,  the, 
season  was  mid-summer ;  and  one  evening  about  dusk, 
during  the  illness  of  the  child,  the  noise  of  a  hand-saw  was 
heard  upon  the  Forth.  This  was  considered  rather  st  ra  ng>> 
and,  after  a  little  time,  a  few  of  those  who  were  assembled 
at  Frank  Thomas's  went  to  see  who  it,  could  be  that  was 
sawing  in  such  a  place,  or  what  they  could  be  sawing  it, 
so  late  an  hour,  for  every  one  knew  that  nobody  in  the 
whole  country  about  them  would  dare  to  cut  down  the  fe'.v 
white-thorns  that  grew  upon  the  Forth.  On  going  to 
examine,  however,  judge  of  their  surprise,  when,  after  sur 
rounding  and  searching  the  whole  place,  they  could 
discover  no  trace  of  either  saw  or  sawye*-.  In  fact.,  ^ntb 


18  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  exception  of  themselves,  there  was  no  one,  either 
natural  or  supernatural,  visible.  They  then  returned  to 
the  house,  and  had  scarcely  sat  down,  when  it  was  heard 
again  within  ten  yards  of  them.  Another  examination  of 
the  premises  took  place,  but  with  equal  success.  Now, 
however,  while  standing  on  the  Forth,  they  heard  the 
sawing  in  a  little  hollow,  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
below  them,  which  was  completely  exposed  to  their  view, 
but  they  could  see  nobody.  A  party  of  them  immediately 
vent  down  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  what  this  singular  noise 
nd  invisible  labor  could  mean ;  but  on  arriving  at  the 
spot,  they  heard  the  sawing,  to  which  were  now  added 
hammering,  and  the  driving  of  nails  upon  the  Forth  above, 
whilst  those  who  stood  on  the  Forth  continued  to  hear  it 
in  the  hollow.  On  comparing  notes,  they  resolved  to  send 
down  to  Billy  Nelson's  for  Frank  Martin,  a  distance  of  only 
about  eighty  or  ninety  yards.  He  was  soon  on  the  spot, 
and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  solved  the  enigma. 

"'Tis  the  fairies,"  said  he.  "I  see  them,  and  busy 
crathurs  they  are." 

"  But  what  are  they  sawing,  Frank  ?  " 

"  They  are  makin'  a  child's  coffin,"  he  replied ;  "  they 
have  the  body  already  made,  an'  they're  now  nailin'  the 
lid  together." 

That  night  the  child  died,  and  the  story  goes  that  on  the 
second  evening  afterwards,  the  carpenter  who  was  called 
upon  to  make  the  coffin  brought  a  table  out  from  Thomas's 
house  to  the  Forth,  as  a  temporary  bench ;  and,  it  is  said, 
that  the  sawing  and  hammering  necessary  for  the  com 
pletion  of  his  task  were  precisely  the  same  which  had  been 
heard  the  evening  but  one  before — neither  more  nor  less. 
I  remember  the  death  of  the  child  myself,  and  the  making 
of  its  coffin,  but  I  think  the  story  of  the  supernatural 
carpenter  was  not  heard  in  the  village  for  some  months 
after  its  interment. 

Frank  had  every  appearance  of  a  hypochondriac  about 
him.  At  the  time  I  saw  him,  he  might  be  about  thirty T 
four  years  of  age,  but  I  do  not  think,  from  the  debility  of- 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER.  19 

his  frame  and  infirm  health,  that  he  has  been  alive  for 
several  years.  He  was  an  object  of  considerable  interest 
and  curiosity,  and  often  have  I  been  present  when  he  was 
pointed  out  to  strangers  as  "  the  man  that  could  see  the 
good  people." 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER. 

T.  CROFTON  CROKER. 

IT  is  said  by  those  who  ought  to  understand  such  things, 
that  the  good  people,  or  the  fairies,  are  some  of  the  angels 
who  are  turned  out  of  heaven,  and  who  landed  on  their 
feet  in  this  world,  while  the  rest  of  their  companions,  who 
had  more  sin  to  sink  them,  went  down  farther  to  a  worse 
place.  Be  this  as  it  may,  there  was  a  merry  troop  of  the 
fairies,  dancing  and  playing  all  manner  of  wild  pranks,  on 
a  bright  moonlight  evening  towards  the  end  of  September. 
The  scene  of  their  merriment  was  not  far  distant  from 
Inchegeela,  in  the  west  of  the  county  Cork — a  poor  village, 
although  it  had  a  barrack  for  soldiers ;  but  great  moun 
tains  and  barren  rocks,  like  those  round  about  it,  are 
enough  to  strike  poverty  into  any  place  :  however,  as  the 
fairies  can  have  everything  they  want  for  wishing, 
poverty  does  not  trouble  them  much,  and  all  their  care  is 
to  seek  out  unfrequented  nooks  and  places  where  it  is 
not  likely  any  one  will  come  to  spoil  their  sport. 

On  a  nice  green  sod  by  the  river's  side  were  the  little 
fellows  dancing  in  a  ring  as  gaily  as  may  be,  with  their 
red  caps  wagging  about  at  every  bound  in  the  moonshine, 
and  so  light  were  these  bounds  that  the  lobs  of  dew,  al 
though  they  trembled  under  their  feet,  were  not  disturbed 
by  their  capering.  Thus  did  they  carry  on  their  gambols, 
spinning  round  and  round,  and  twirling  and  bobbing  and 
diving,  and  going  through  all  manner  of  figures,  until  one 
of  them  chirped  out, 


20  IftlSH  FAIRY  TALES. 


"  Cease,  cease,  with  your  drumming, 
Here's  an  end  to  our  mumming ; 

By  my  smell 

I  can  tell 
A  priest  this  way  is  coming !  " 


And  away  every  one  of  the  fairies  scampered  off  as  hard 
as  they  could,  concealing  themselves  under  the  green 
leaves  of  the  lusmore,  where,  if  their  little  red  caps  should 
happen  to  peep  out,  they  would  only  look  like  its  crimson 
bells ;  and  more  hid  themselves  at  the  shady  side  of  stones 
and  brambles,  and  others  under  the  bank  of  the  river, 
and  in  holes  and  crannies  of  one  kind  or  another. 

The  fairy  speaker  was  not  mistaken  ;  for  along  the  road, 
which  was  within  view  of  the  river,  came  Father  Horrigan 
on  his  pony,  thinking  to  himself  that  as  it  was  so  late  he 
would  make  an  end  of  his  journey  at  the  first  cabin  he 
came  to.  According  to  this  determination,  he  stopped  at 
the  dwelling  of  Dermod  Leary,  lifted  the  latch,  and  entered 
with  "  My  blessing  on  all  here." 

I  need  not  say  that  Father  Ilorrigan  was  a  welcome 
guest  wherever  he  went,  for  no  man  was  more  pious  or 
better  beloved  in  the  country.  Now  it  was  a  great  trouble 
to  Dermod  that  he  had  nothing  to  offer  his  reverence  for 
supper  as  a  relish  to  the  potatoes,  which  "  the  old  woman," 
for  so  Dermod  called  his  wife,  though  she  was  not  much 
past  twenty,  had  down  boiling  in  a  pot  over  the  fire  ;  he 
thought  of  the  net  which  he  had  set  in  the  river,  but  as  it 
had  been  there  only  a  short  time,  the  chances  were  against 
his  finding  a  fish  in  it.  "  No  matter,"  thought  Dermod, 
"  there  can  be  no  harm  in  stepping  down  to  try ;  and 
maybe,  as  I  want  the  fish  for  the  priest's  supper,  that  one 
will  be  there  before  me." 

Down  to  the  river-side  went  Dermod,  and  he  found  in 
the  net  as  fine  a  salmon  as  ever  jumped  in  the  bright 
waters  of  "the  spreading  Lee;"  but  as  he  was  going  to 
take  it  out,  the  net  was  pulled  from  him,  he  could  not 
tell  how  or  by  whom,  and  away  got  the  salmon,  and  went 


THE  PRIEST'S  SUPPER.  21 

s\\  imming  along  \\  itli  the  current  as  gaily  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

Dermod  looked  sorrowfully  at  the  wake  which  the  fish 
had  left  upon  the  \vater,  shining  like  a  line  of  silver  in 
the  moonlight,  and  then,  with  an  angry  motion  of  his 
right  hand,  and  a  stamp  of  his  foot,  gave  vent  to  his  feel 
ings  by  muttering,  "  May  bitter  bad  luck  attend  you  night 
and  day  for  a  blackguard  schemer  of  a  salmon,  wherever 
yon  go!  You  ought  to  he  ashamed  of  yourself,  if  there's 
any  shame  in  you,  to  give  me  the  slip  after  this  fashion! 
And  I'm  clear  in  my  own  mind  you'll  come  to  no  good, 
for  some  kind  of  evil  thing  or  other' helped  yon — did  I 
not  feel  it  pull  the  net  against  me  as  strong  as  the  devil 
himself?  " 

"That's  not  true  for  you,"  said  one  of  the  little  fairies 
who  had  scampered  off  at  the  approach  of  the  priest, 
coming  iT]>  to  Dermod  Leary  with  a  whole  throng  of  com 
panions  at  his  heels;  u  there  was  only  a  do/en  and  a  half 
of  us  pulling  against  you." 

Dermod  gazed  on  the  tiny  speaker  with  wonder,  who 
continued,  "Make  yourself  noways  nneasy  about  the 
priest's  supper;  for  if  you  will  go  back  and  ask  him  one 
question  from  us,  there  will  be  as  tine  a  supper  as  ever 
was  put  on  a  table  spread  out  before  him  in  less  than  no 
time." 

"  I'll  have  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  you,"  replied  Der 
mod  in  a,  tone  of  determination ;  and  after  a  pause  he 
added,  "  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  otter,  sir,  hut 
I  know  better  than  to  sell  myself  to  you,  or  the  like  of 
you,  for  a  supper;  and  more  than  that,  I  know  Father 
Ilorrigaii  has  more  regard  for  my  soul  than  to  wish  me 
to  pledge  it  for  ever,  out  of  regard  to  anything  you  could 
put  before  him— so  there's  an  end  of  the  matter." 

The  little  speaker,  with  a  pertinacity  not  to  be  repulsed 
by  Dermod's  manner,  continued,  "  Will  you  ask  the  priest 
one  civil  question  for  us?" 

Dermod  considered  for  some  time,  and  he  was  right  in 
doing  so,  but  he  thought  that  no  one  could  come  to  harm 


22  IRISH  FAIEY  TALES. 

out  of  asking  a  civil  question.  "  I  siv  no  objection  to  do 
that  same,  gentlemen,"  said  Dermod ;  "  but  I  will  have 
nothing  in  life  to  do  with  your  supper — mind  that/' 

"  Then,"  said  the  little  speaking  fairy,  'whilst  the  rest 
came  crowding  after  him  from  all  parts,  "go  and  ask 
Father  Horrigan  to  tell  us  whether  our  souls  will  be 
saved  at  the  last  day,  like  the  souls  of  good  Christians ; 
and  if  you  wish  us  well,  bring  back  word  what  he  says 
without  delay." 

Away  went  Dermod  to  his  cabin,  where  he  found  the 
potatoes  thrown  out  on  the  table,  and  his  good  woman 
handing  the  biggest  of  them  all,  a  beautiful  laughing  red 
apple,  smoking  like  a  hard-ridden  horse  on  a  frosty  night, 
over  to  Father  Horrigan. 

"  Please  your  reverence,"  said  Dermod,  after  some 
hesitation,  "  may  I  make  bold  to  ask  your  honour  one 
question  ?  " 

"What  may  that  be?  "  said  Father  Horrigan. 

"  Why,  then,  begging  your  reverence's  pardon  for  my 
freedom,  it  is,  If  the  souls  of  the  good  people  are  to  be 
saved  at  the  last  day  ?  " 

«  Who  bid  you  ask  me  that  question,  Leary  ?  "  said  the 
priest,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  him  very  sternly,  which  Der 
mod  could  not  stand  before  at  all. 

"  I'll  tell  no  lies  about  the  matter,  and  nothing  in  life 
but  the  truth,"  said  Dermod.  "  It  was  the  good  people 
themselves  who  sent  me  to  ask  the  question,  and  there 
they  are  in  thousands  down  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
waiting  for  me  to  go  back  with  the  answer." 

"  Go  back  by  all  means,"  said  the  priest,  "  and  tell  them, 
if  they  want  to  know,  to  come  here  to  me  themselves,  and 
I'll  answer  that  or  any  other  question  they  are  pleased  to 
ask  with  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life." 

Dermod  accordingly  returned  to  the  fairies,  who  came 
swarming  round  about  him  to  hear  what  the  priest  had 
said  in  reply  ;  and  Dermod  spoke  out  among  them  like  a 
bold  man  as  he  was  ;  but  when  they  heard  that  they  must 
go  to  the  priest,  away  they  fled,  some  here  and  more 


THE  FAIRY  WELL  OF  LAGNANAY.  23 

there,  and  some  this  way  and  more  that,  whisking  by 
poor  Dermod  so  fast  and  in  sneli  numbers  that  he  was 
quite  bewildered. 

When  lie  came  to  himself,  which  was  not  for  a  long 
time,  back  he  went  to  his  cabin,  and  ate  his  dry  potatoes 
along  with  Father  Kerrigan,  who  made  quite  light  of  the 
thing ;  but  Dermod  could  not  help  thinking  it  a  mighty 
hard  case  that  his  reverence,  whose  words  had  the  power 
to  banish  the  fairies  at  such  a  rate,  should  have  no  sort  of 
relish  to  his  supper,  and  that  the  fine  salmon  he  had  in 
the  net  should  have  been  got  away  from  him  in  such  a 
manner. 


THE  FAIRY  WELL  OF  LA(4XA\AV. 

I'.Y    SA.Ml'KI.    FKKci  I  SON'. 

MoiKNFru.Y,  sing  mournfully— 

"  ()  listen,  Ellen,  sister  dear; 
Is  there  no  help  at  all  for  me, 

"But  only  ceaseless  sigh  and  tear? 

Why  did  not  he  who  left  me  here, 
With  stolen  hope  steal  memory  ? 

()  listen,  Ellen,  sister  dear, 
(Mournfully,  sing  mournfully) — 

I'll  go  away  to  Sleamish  hill, 
111  pluck  the  fairy  hawthorn-tree, 

And  let  the  spirits  work  their  will ; 

I  care  not  if  for  good  or  ill, 
So  they  but  lay  the  memory 

Which  all  my  heart  is  haunting  still ! 
(Mournfully,  sing  mournfully)— 

The  Fairies  are  a  silent  race, 
And  pale  as  lily  fiowers  to  see ; 

I  care  not  for  a  blanched  face, 

For  wandering  in  a  dreaming  place, 


24  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

So  I  but  banish  memory  : — 

I  wish  T  were  with  Anna  Grace  !  " 
.Mournfully,  sing  mournfully  ! 

Hearken  to  my  tale  of  woe — 

"T\vus  thus  to  weeping  Ellen  Con, 
Her  sister  said  in  accents  low, 

Her  only  sister,  Una  bawn  : 

'Twas  in  their  bed  before  the  dawn, 
And  Ellen  answered  sad  and  slow, — 

"  Oh  Una,  Una,  be  not  drawn 
(Hearken  to  my  tale  of  woe)— 

To  this  unholy  grief  I  pray, 
Which  makes  me  sick  at  heart  to  know, 

And  I  Avill  help  yon  if  I  may  : 
—The  Fairy  Well  of  Lagnanay— 
Lie  nearer  me,  I  tremble  so,— 

Una,  I've  heard  wise  women  say 
(Hearken  to  my  tale  of  woe)— 

That  if  before  the  dews  arise, 
True  maiden  in  its  icy  flow 

With  pure  hand  bathe  her  bosom  thrice, 

Three  lady-brackens  pluck  likewise, 
And  three  times  round  the  fountain  go, 

She  straight  forgets  her  tears  and  sighs." 
Hearken  to  my  tale  of  woe  ! 


All,  alas !  and  well-away  ! 

"  Oh,  sister  Ellen,  sister  sweet, 
Come  with  me  to  the  hill  I  pray, 

And  I  will  prove  that  blessed  freet ! " 

They  rose  with  soft  and  silent  feet, 
They  left  their  mother  where  she  lay, 

Their  mother  and  her  care  discreet, 
(All,  alas !  and  well-away  ! 

And  soon  they  reached  the  Fairy  Well, 
The  mountain's  eye,  clear,  cold,  and  gray, 


THE  FAIRY  WELL  OF  LAGNAXAY. 

AVide  open  in  the  dreary  fell: 

How  long  they  stood  'twere  vain  to  tell, 
At  last  upon  the  point  of  day, 

Bawn  Una  bares  her  bosom's  swell, 
(All,  alas!  and  well- away!) 

Thrice  o'er  her  shrinking  breasts  she  laves 
The  gliding  glance  that  will  not  stay 

Of  subtly -streaming  fairy  waves  :— 

And  now  the  charm  three  brackens  craves, 
She  plucks  them  in  their  fring'd  array  :— 

Now  round  the  well  her  fate  she  braves, 
All,  alas  !  and  well -a way  ! 

Save  us  all  from  Fairy  thrall  ! 

Ellen  sees  her  face  the  rim 
Twice  and  thrice,  and  that  is  all  - 

Fount  and  hill  and  maiden  swim 

All  together  melting  dim  ! 
"  Una  !  Una  !  "  thou  may'st  call, 

Sister  sad  !  but  lith  or  limb 
(Save  us  all  from  Fairy  thrall!) 

Never  again  of  Una  bawn, 
Where  now  she  walks  in  dreamy  hall, 

Shall  eye  of  mortal  look  upon! 

Oh  !  can  it  be  the  guard  was  gone, 
The  better  guard  than  shield  or  wall  ? 

Who  knows  on  earth  save  Jurlagh  Daune? 
(Save  us  all  from  Fairy  thrall !) 

Behold  the  banks  are  green  and  bare, 
No  pit  is  here  within  to  fall : 

Aye — at  the  fount  you  well  may  stare, 

But  nought  save  pebbles  smooth  is  there, 
And  small  straws  twirling  one  and  all. 

Hie  thee  home,  and  be  thy  pray'r, 
Save  us  all  from  Fairy  thrall. 


26  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


TEK;  O'KANE  (TADIK;  o  CATIIAN)  AND  THE 

CORPSE.* 

UTKIIAI.I.V   TKAXSLATKD  KliOM   T1IK  IlilSH  1JY  DOUGLAS   IIYDK. 

[I  FOUND  it  hard  to  place  Mr.  Douglas  Hyde's  magnificent 
story.  Among  the  ghosts  or  the  fairies  ?  It  is  among  the 
fairies  on  the  grounds  that  all  these  ghosts  and  bodies 
were  in  no  manner  ghosts  and  bodies,  but  pishogues — 
fairy  spells.  One  often  hears  of  these  visions  in  Ireland. 
I  have  met  a  man  who  had  lived  a  wild  life  like  the  man 
in  the  story,  till  a  vision  came  to  him  in  County  -  —  one 
dark  night — in  no  way  so  terrible  a  vision  as  this,  but 
sufficient  to  change  his  whole  character.  He  will  not  go 
out  at  night.  If  you  speak  to  him  suddenly  he  trembles. 
lie  has  grown  timid  and  strange,  lie  went  to  the  bishop 
and  was  sprinkled  with  holy  water.  "It  may  have  come 
as  a  warning,"  said  the  bishop;  "yet  great  theologians 
are  of  opinion  that  no  man  ever  saw  an  apparition,  for  no 
man  would  survive  it." — ED.] 

TIIKHK  was  once  a  grown-up  lad  in  the  County  Leitrim, 
and  he  was  storng  and  lively,  and  the  son  of  a  rich  farmer. 
His  father  had  plenty  of  money,  and  he  did  not  spare  it  on 
the  son.  Accordingly,  when  the  boy  grew  up  he  liked 
sport  better  than  work,  and,  as  his  father  had  no  other 
children,  he  loved  this  OIK;  so  much  that  he  allowed  him 
to  do  in  everything  just  as  it  pleased  himself,  lie  was 
very  extravagant,  and  he  used  to  scatter  the  gold 
money  as  another  person  would  scatter  the  white.  He 
was  seldom  to  be  found  at  home,  but  if  there  was  a  fair, 
or  a  race,  or  a  gathering  within  ten  miles  of  him,  you 
were  dead  certain  to  find  him  there.  And  he  seldom 

*  None  of  Mr.  Hyde's  stories  here  given  h;i  v<>  been  published 
before.  They  will  be  printed  in  the  original  Irish  in  his  forth 
coming  Leabhar  Sgeulaigheachta  (Gill,  Dublin). 


TEIG  O'KANE  AND  THE  CORPSE.  27 

spent  a  night  in  his  father's  house,  but  he  used  to  be  al 
ways  out  rambling,  and  like  Shawn  Bwee  long  ago,  there 
was 

"  gradli  gach  cailin  i  mbrollach  a  leine," 

"  the  love  of  every  girl  in  the  breast  of  his  shirt,"  and  it's 
ninny's  the  kiss  he  got  and  he  gave,  for  he  was  very  hand 
some,  and  there  wasn't  a  girl  in  the  country  but  would 
fall  in  love  with  him,  only  for  him  to  fasten  his  two  eyes 
on  her,  and  it  was  for  that  some  one  made  this  rann  on 
on  him — 

"Feuch  an  rogaire  'g  irraidh  poige, 

Ni  h-iongantas  more   a  bheith  mar  ata 
Ag  leanamhaint  a  gcomhnuidhe  d'arnan  na  graineoige 

Anuas  's  anois  's  nna  chodladh  'sa'  la." 

i.  e. — "  Look  at  the  rogue,  it's  for  kisses  he's  rambling, 

It  isn't  much  wonder,  for  that  was  his  way  ; 
He's  like  an  old  hedgehog,  at  night  he'll  be  scrambling 
From  this  place  to  that,  but  he'll  sleep  in  the  day." 

At  last  he  became  very  wild  and  unruly.  He  wasn't 
to  be  seen  day  nor  night  in  his  father's  house,  but  always 
rambling  on  his  bailee  (night-visit)  from  place  to  place  and 
from  house  to  house,  so  that  the  old  people  used  to  shako 
their  heads  and  say  to  one  another,  ''it's  easy  seen  what 
will  happen  to  the  land  when  the  old  man  dies:  his  son 
will  run  through  it  in  a  year,  and  it  won't  stand  him  that 
long  itself. 

He  used  to  be  always  gambling  and  card-playing  and 
drinking,  but  his  father  never  minded  his  bad  habits,  and 
never  punished  him.  But  it  happened  one  day  that  the 
old  man  was  told  that  the  son  had  ruined  the  character  of 
a  girl  in  the  neighborhood,  and  he  was  greatly  angry,  and 
he  called  the  son  to  him,  and  said  to  him,  quietly  and 
sensibly — "  A  vie,'"  says  he,  "  you  know  I  loved  you  greatly 
up  to  this,  and  I  never  stopped  you  from  doing  your 
choice  thing  whatever  it  was,  and  I  kept  plenty  of  money 
with  you,  and  I  always  hoped  to  leave  you  the  house  and 
land,  and  all  I  had  after  myself  would  be  gone ;  but  I 


28  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

heard  a  story  of  you  to-day  that  has  disgusted  me  with 
you.  I  cannot  tell  you  the  grief  that  I  felt  when  I  heard 
such  a  thing  of  you,  and  I  tell  you  now  plainly  that  un 
less  you  marry  that  girl  I'll  leave  house  and  land  and 
everything  to  my  brother's  son.  I  never  could  leave  it  to 
any  one  who  would  make  so  bad  a  use  of  it  as  you  do  your 
self,  deceiving  women  and  coaxing  girls.  Settle  with 
yourself  now  whether  you'll  marry  that  girl  and  get  my 
land  as  a  fortune  with  her,  or  refuse  to  marry  her  and 
give  up  all  that  was  coming  to  you ;  and  tell  me  in  the 
morning  which  of  the  two  things  you  have  chosen/' 

"  Och !  Dotnnoo  Sheery  !  father,  you  wouldn't  say  that 
to  me,  and  I  such  a  good  son  as  I  am.  Who  told  you  I 
wouldn't  marry  the  girl  ?  "  says  he. 

But  his  father  was  gone,  and  the  lad  knew  well  enough 
that  he  would  keep  his  word  too ;  and  he  was  greatly 
troubled  in  his  mind,  for  as  quiet  and  as  kind  as  the  father 
was,  he  never  went  back  of  a  word  that  he  had  once  said, 
and  there  wasn't  another  man  in  the  country  who  was 
harder  to  bend  than  he  was. 

The  boy  did  not  know  rightly  what  to  do.  He  was  in 
love  with  the  girl  indeed,  and  he  hoped  to  marry  her 
sometime  or  other,  but  he  would  much  sooner  have  re 
mained  another  while  as  he  was,  and  follow  on  at  his  old 
tricks — drinking,  sporting,  and  playing  cards  ;  and,  along 
with  that,  he  was  angry  that  his  father  should  order  him 
to  marry,  and  should  threaten  him  if  he  did  not  do  it. 

"Isn't  my  father  a  great  fool,"  says  he  to  himself.  4k  I 
was  ready  enough,  and  only  too  anxious,  to  marry  3Iary  ; 
and  now  since  he  threatened  me,  faith  I've  a  great  mind 
to  let  it  go  another  while." 

His  mind  was  so  much  excited  that  he  remained  be 
tween  two  notions  as  to  what  he  should  do.  IK-  walkrd 
out  into  the  night  at  last  to  cool  his  heated  blood,  ;md 
went  on  to  the  road.  He  lit  a  pipe,  and  as  the  night  WHS 
fine  he  walked  and  walked  on,  until  the  quick  pace  made 
him  begin  to  forget  his  trouble.  The  night  was  bright , 
and  the  nioon  half  full.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  wind 


TE1G  O'KANE  AND  THE  CORPSE.  20 

blowing,  and  the  air  was  calm  and  mild.  He  walked  on 
for  nearly  three  hours,  when  he  suddenly  remembered 
that  it  was  late  in  the  night,  and  time  for  him  to  turn. 
"Musha!  I  think  I  forgot  myself,"  says  he;  "it  must  be 
near  twelve  o'clock  now.1' 

The  word  was  hardly  out  of  his  mouth,  when  he  heard 
the  sound  of  many  voices,  and  the  trampling  of  feet  on 
the  road  before  him.  "1  don't  know  who  can  be  out  so 
late  at  night  as  this,  and  on  such  a  lonely  road,"  said  he 
to  himself. 

lie  stood  listening,  and  he  heard  the  voices  of  many 
people  talking  through  other,  but  he  could  not  under 
stand  what  they  were  saying.  "Oh,  wirra  !  "  says  lie, 
k*  I'm  afraid.  It's  not  Irish  or  English  they  have;  it  can't 
be  they're  Frenchmen  !"  lie  went  on  a  couple  of  yards 
further,  and  lie  saw  well  enough  by  the  light  of  the  moon 
a  band  of  little  people  coming  towards  him,  and  they  were 
carrying  something  big  and  heavy  with  them.  "Oh, 
murder  !  "  says  he  to  himself,  "  sure  it  can't  be  that  they're 
the  good  people  that's  in  it!"  Ever])  rih  of  hair  that  w;is 
on  his  head  stood  up,  and  there  fell  a  shaking  on  his 
bones,  for  he  saw  that  they  were  coming  to  him  fast. 

lie  looked  at  them  again,  and  perceived  that  there,  were 
about  twenty  little  men  in  it,  and  there  was  not  a  man  at 
all  of  them  higher  than  about  three  feet  or  three  feet  and 
a  half,  and  some  of  them  were  gray,  and  seemed  very  old. 
lie  looked  again,  but  he  could  not  make  out  what  was  the 
heavy  thing  they  were  carrying  until  they  came  up  to  him, 
and  then  they  all  stood  round  about  him.  They  threw 
the  heavy  thing  down  on  the  road,  and  he  saw  on  tin- 
spot  that  it  was  a  dead  body. 

lie  became  as  cold  as  the  Death,  and  there  was  not  a 
drop  of  blood  running  in  his  veins  when  an  old  little  gray 
m'.'tneen  came  up  to  him  and  said,  "  Isn't  it  lucky  v.  «•  in*  t 
you,  Teig  O'Kane  ?  " 

Poor  Teig  could  not  bring  out  a  word  at.  all,  nor  open 
his  lips,  if  he  were  to  get  the  world  for  it,  and  so  he  gave 
no 


30  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  Teig  O'Kane,"  said  the  little  gray  man  again,  "  isn't  it 
timely  you  met  us  '/  n 

Teig  could  not  answer  him. 

u  Teig  O'Kane,"  says  he,  « the  third  time,  isn't  it  lucky 
and  timely  that  we  met  you  ?  " 

But  Teig  remained  silent,  for  he  was  afraid  to  return 
an  answer,  and  his  tongue  was  as  if  it  was  tied  to  the 
roof  of  his  mouth. 

The  little  gray  man  turned  to  his  companions,  and  there 
was  joy  in  his  bright  little  eye.  "  And  now,"  says  he, 
"Teig  O'Kane  hasn't  a  word,  we  can  do  with  him  what 
we  please.  Teig,  Teig,"  says  he,  "you're  living  a  bad  life, 
and  we  can  make  a  slave  of  you  now,  and  you  cannot 
withstand  us,  for  there's  no  use  in  trying  to  go  against 
us.  Lift  that  corpse." 

Teig  was  so  frightened  that  lie  was  only  able  to  utter 
the  two  words,  "  I  won't ;  "  for  as  frightened  as  he  was,  he 
was  obstinate  and  stiff,  the  same  as  ever. 

"Teig  O'Kjme  won't  lift  the  corpse,"  said  the  little 
•}itff/irf-/i,  with  a  wicked  little  laugh,  for  all  the  world  like 
the  breaking  of  a  lock  of  dry  kijyu'.oi.^  and  with  a  little 
harsh  voice  like  the  striking  of  a  cracked  bell.  "Teig 
O'Kane  won't  lift  the  corpse — make  him  lift  it ;  "  and  be 
fore  the  word  was  out  of  his  mouth  they  had  all  gathered 
round  poor  Teig,  and  they  all  talking  and  laughing 
through  other. 

Teig  tried  to  run  from  them,  but  they  followed  him, 
and  a  man  of  them  stretched  out  his  foot  before  him  as  he 
ran,  so  that  Teig  was  thrown  in  a  heap  on  the  road. 
Then  before  lie  could  rise  up  the  fairies  caught  him,  some 
by  the  hands  and  some  by  the  feet,  and  they  held  him 
t  ij;-lii.  in  a  vv  ay  that  he  could  not  stir,  with  his  face  against, 
the  ground.  Six  or  seven  of  them  raised  the  body  then, 
and  pulled  it  over  to  him,  and  left  it  down  on  his  back. 
The  breast  of  the  corpse  was  squeezed  against  Teig's  back 
and  shoulders,  and  the  arms  of  the  corpse  were  thrown 
around  Teig's  neck.  Then  they  stood  back  from  him  a 
1  r>le  of  yards,  and  let  him  get  up.  He  rose,  forming  at 


TEIG  O'KANE  AND  THE  CORPSE.  31 

the  mouth  and  cursing,  and  he  shook  himself,  thinking  to 
throw  llit'  corpse  off  his  back.  But  his  fear  and  his  won 
der  were  great  when  he  found  that  the  two  arms  had  a 
tight  hold  round  his  own  neck,  and  that  the  two  legs  were 
squeezing  his  hips  firmly,  and  that,  however  strongly  he 
tried,  he  could  not  throw  it  off,  any  more  than  a  horse 
can  throw  off  its  saddle.  He  was  terribly  frightened 
then,  and  he  thought  he  was  lost.  "Ochone!  forever," 
said  he  to  himself,  "it's  the  bad  life  I'm  leading  that  has 
given  the  good  people  this  power  over  me.  I  promise  to 
God  and  Mary,  Peter  and  Paul,  Patrick  and  Bridget, 
that  Til  mend  my  ways  for  as  long  as  I  have  to  live  if 
I  come  clear  out  of  this  danger — and  I'll  marry  the 

girl." 

The  little  gray  man  came  up  to  him  again,  and  said  he 
to  him,  "Now,  Teigce^,"  said  he,  "you  didn't  lift  the 
body  when  I  told  you  to  lift  it,  and  see  how  you  were 
made  to  lift  it ;  perhaps  when  I  tell  you  to  bury  it  you 
won't  bury  it  until  you're  made  to  bury  it !  " 

"  Anything  at  all  that  I  can  do  for  your  honor,"  said 
Teig,  u  I'll  do  it,"  for  he  was  getting  sense  already,  and  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  great  fear  that  was  on  him,  lie 
never  would  have  let  that  civil  word  slip  out  of  his 
mouth. 

The  little  man  laughed  a  sort  of  laugh  again.  "  You're 
getting  quiet  now,  Teig,"  said  he.  "  I'll  go  bail  but  you'll 
be  quiet  enough  before  I'm  done  with  you.  Listen  to  me 
now,  Teig  O'Kane,  and  if  you  don't  obey  me  in  all  I'm 
telling  you  to  do,  you'll  repent  it.  You  must  carry  with 
you  this  corpse  that  is  on  your  back  to  Teampoll-Demus, 
and  you  must  bring  it  into  the  church  with  you,  and 
make  a  grave  for  it  in  the  very  middle  of  the  church,  and 
you  must  raise  up  the  flags  and  put  them  down  again  the 
very  same  way,  and  you  must  carry  the  clay  out  of  the 
church  and  leave  the  place  as  it  was  when  you  came,  so 
that  no  one  could  know  that  there  had  been  anything 
changed.  But  that's  not  all.  Maybe  that  the  body  won't 
be  allowed  to  be  buried  in  that  church ;  perhaps  some 


32  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

other  man  has  the  bed,  and,  if  so,  it's  likely  he  won't 
share  it  with  this  one.  If  you  don't  get  leave  to  bury  it 
in  Teampoll-Demus,  you  must  carry  it  to  Carrick-fhad-vic- 
Orus,  and  bury  it  in  the  churchyard  there ;  and  if  you 
don't  get  it  into  that  place,  take  it  with  you  to  Teampoll- 
Konan;  and  if  that  churchyard  is  closed  on  you,  take  it 
to  Imlogue-Fada ;  and  if  you're  not  able  to  bury  it  there, 
you've  no  more  to  do  than  to  take  it  to  Kill-Breedya,  and 
you  can  bury  it  there  without  hindrance.  I  cannot  tell 
you  what  one  of  those  churches  is  the  one  where  you  will 
have  leave  to  bury  that  corpse  under  the  clay,  but  I  know 
that  it  will  be  allowed  you  to  bury  him  at  some  church 
or  other  of  them.  It  you  do  this  work  rightly,  we  will  be 
thsinkftil  to  you,  and  you  will  have  no  cause  to  grieve ; 
but  if  you  are  slow  or  lazy,  believe  me  we  shall  take 
satisfaction  of  you." 

\Vhen  the  gray  little  man  had  done  speaking,  his 
comrades  laughed  and  clapped  their  hands  together. 
"Glic!  Glic!  Hwee !  Hwee ! "  they  all  cried;  "goon,  go 
on,  you  have  eight  hours  before  you  till  daybreak,  and  if 
you  haven't  this  man  buried  before  the  sun  rises,  you're 
lost."  They  struck  a  fist  and  a  foot  behind  on  him,  and 
drove  him  on  in  the  road.  He  was  obliged  to  walk,  and 
to  walk  fast,  for  they  gave  him  no  rest. 

He  thought  himself  that  there  was  not  a  wet  path,  or  a 
dirty  boreen,  or  a  crooked  contrary  road  in  the  whole 
country,  that  he  had  not  walked  that  night.  The  night 
was  at  times  very  dark,  and  whenever  there  would  come 
a  cloud  across  the  moon  he  could  see  nothing,  and  then 
he  used  often  to  fall.  Sometimes  he  was  hurt,  and  some 
times  he  escaped,  but  he  was  obliged  always  to  rise  on  the 
moment  and  to  hurry  on.  Sometimes  the  moon  would 
break  out  clearly,  and  then  he  would  look  behind  him  and 
see  the  little  people  following  at  his  back.  And  he 
heard  them  speaking  amongst  themselves,  talking  and 
crying  out.  and  screaming  like  a  flock  of  sea-gulls  ;  and 
if  he  was  to  save  his  soul  he  never  understood  as  much  as 
one  word  of  what  they  were  saying. 


TEIG  O'KAXE  AND  THE  CORPSE.  33 

He  did  not  know  how  far  he  had  walked,  when  at  last 
one  of  them  cried  out  to  him,  "  Stop  here  !  "  He  stood, 
and  they  all  gathered  round  him. 

"  Do  yon  see  those  withered  trees  over  the  it1  ?"said  the 
old  boy  to  him  again.  "  Teampoll  Demns  is  among  those 
trees,  and  yon  must  go  in  there  by  yourself,  for  we  can 
not  follow  yon  or  go  with  yon.  We  must  remain  here. 
Go  on  boldly." 

Teig  looked  from  him,  and  he  saw  a  high  Avail  that  was 
in  places  half  broken  down,  and  an  old  gray  church  on 
the  inside  of  the  wall,  and  about  a  do/en  withered  old 
trees  scattered  here  and  there  round  it.  There  was 
neither  leaf  nor  twig  on  any  of  them,  but  their  bare 
crooked  branches  were  stretched  out  like  the  arms  of  an 
angry  man  when  he  threatens,  lie  had  no  help  for  it, 
but  was  obliged  to  go  forward.  He  was  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards  from  the  church,  but  he  walked  on,  and 
never  looked  behind  him  until  he  came  to  the  gate  of  the 
churchyard.  The  old  gate  was  thrown  down,  and  he  had 
no  difficulty  in  entering.  He  turned  then  to  see  if  any  of 
the  little  people  were  following  him,  but  there  came  a, 
cloud  over  the  moon,  and  the  night  became  so  dark  that 
he  could  see  nothing.  lie  went  into  the  churchyard,  and 
he  walked  up  the  old  grassy  pathway  leading  to  the 
church.  When  he  reached  the  door,  he  found  it  locked. 
The  door  was  large  and  strong,  and  he  did  not  know  what 
to  do.  At  last  he  drew  out  his  knife  with  difficulty,  and 
stuck  it  in  the  wood  to  try  if  it  were  not  rotten,  but  it 
was  not. 

"  Now,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  have  no  more  to  do;  the 
door  is  shut,  and  I  can't  open  it." 

Before  the  words  were  rightly  shaped  in  his  own  mind, 
a  voice  in  his  ear  said  to  him,  "  Search  for  the  key  on  the 
top  of  the  door,  or  on  the  wall." 

He  started.     "  Who  is  that  speaking  to  me  ?  "  he  cried, 
turning  round  ;  but  he  saw  no  one.     The  voice  said  in  his 
ear  again,  "  Search  for  the  key  on  the  top  of  the  door,  or 
on  the  wall." 
3 


34  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  he,  and  the  sweat  running  from 
his  forehead  ;  "  who  spoke  to  me  ?  " 

"  It's  I,  the  corpse,  that  spoke  to  you ! "  said  the  voice. 

"  Can  you  talk  ?  "  said  Teig. 

"  Now  and  again,"  said  the  corpse. 

Teig  searched  for  the  key,  and  he  found  it  on  the  top  of 
the  wall.  He  was  too  much  frightened  to  say  any  more, 
but  he  opened  the  door  wide,  and  as  quickly  as  he  could, 
and  he  went  in,  with  the  corpse  on  his  back.  It  was  as 
dark  as  pitch  inside,  and  poor  Teig  began  to  shake  and 
tremble. 

"  Light  the  candle,"  said  the  corpse. 

Teig  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  as  well  as  he  was  able, 
and  drew  out  a  flint  and  steel.  He  struck  a  spark  out  of 
it,  and  lit  a  burnt  rag  he  had  in  his  pocket.  He  blew  it 
until  it  made  a  flame,  and  he  looked  round  him.  The 
church  was  very  ancient,  and  part  of  the  wall  was  broken 
down.  The  windows  were  blown  in  or  cracked,  and  the 
timber  of  the  seats  was  rotten.  There  were  six  or  seven 
old  iron  candlesticks  left  there  still,  and  in  one  of  these 
candlesticks  Teig  found  the  stump  of  an  old  candle,  and 
he  lit  it.  He  was  still  looking  round  him  on  the  strange 
and  horrid  place  in  which  he  found  himself,  when  the 
cold  corpse  whispered  in  his  ear, "  Bury  me  now,  bury  me 
now ;  there  is  a  spade  and  turn  the  ground."  Teig 
looked  from  him,  and  he  saw  a  spade  lying  beside  the 
altar.  He  took  it  up,  and  he  placed  the  blade  under  a 
flag  that  was  in  the  middle  of  the  aisle,  and  leaning  all 
his  weight  on  the  handle  of  the  spade,  he  raised  it. 
When  the  first  flag  was  raised  it  was  not  hard  to  raise 
the  others  near  it,  and  he  moved  three  or  four  of  them 
out  of  their  places.  The  clay  that  was  under  them  was 
soft  and  easy  to  dig,  but  he  had  not  thrown  up  more  than 
three  or  four  shovelfuls,  when  he  felt  the  iron  touch 
something  soft  like  flesh.  He  threw  up  three  of  four 
more  shovelfuls  from  around  it,  and  then  he  saw  that  it 
was  another  body  that  was  buried  in  the  same  place. 

"I  am  afraid  I'll  never  be  allowed  to  bury  the  two 


TEIU  O'KANE  AND  THE  CORPSE.  35 

bodies  in  the  same  hole,"  said  Teig,  in  his  own  mind. 
"  You  corpse,  there  on  my  back,"  says  he,  "  will  yon  be 
satisfied  if  I  bury  yon  down  here  ? "  lint  the  corpse 
never  answered  him  a  word. 

"  That's  a  good  sign,"  said  Teig  to  himself.  "  Maybe 
he's  getting  quiet,"  and  he  thrust  the  spade  down  in  the 
earth  again.  Perhaps  he  hurt  the  flesh  of  the  other 
body,  for  the  dead  man  that  was  buried  there  stood  up  in 
the  grave,  and  shouted  an  awful  shout.  "I  loo!  hoo !  ! 
hoo  ! ! !  Go !  go ! !  go  ! ! !  or  you're  a  dead,  dead,  dead 
man  !  "  And  then  he  fell  back  in  the  grave  again.  Teig 
said  afterwards,  that  of  all  the  wonderful  things  he  saw 
that  night,  that  was  the  most  awful  to  him.  1 1  is  hair 
stood  upright  on  his  head  like  the  bristles  of  a  pig,  the 
cold  sweat  ran  off  his  face,  and  then  came  a  tremor  over 
all  his  bones,  until  he  thought  that  he  must  fall. 

But  after  a  while  he  became  bolder,  when  he  saw  that 
the  second  corpse  remained  lying  quietly  there,  and  he 
threw  in  the  clay  on  it  again,  and  he  smoothed  it  over 
head,  and  he  laid  down  the  flags  carefully  as  they  had 
been  before,  "It  can't  be  that  he'll  rise  up  any  more," 
said  he. 

He  went  down  the  aisle  a  little  further,  and  drew  near 
to  the  door,  and  began  raising  the  flags  again,  looking  for 
another  bed  for  the  corpse  on  his  back.  lie  took  up 
three  or  four  flags  and  put  them  aside,  and  then  he  dug 
the  clay.  He  was  not  long  digging  until  he  laid  bare  an 
old  woman  without  a  thread  upon  her  but  her  shirt.  She 
was  more  lively  than  the  first  corpse,  for  he  had  scarcely 
taken  any  of  the  clay  away  from  about  her,  when  she  sat 
up  and  began  to  cry,  "  Ho,  you  bodach  (clown)  !  I  la,  you 
bodach  !  Where  has  he  been  that  he  got  no  bed  ?  " 

Poor  Teig  drew  back,  and  when  she  found  that  she 
was  getting  no  answer,  she  closed  her  eyes  gently,  lost 
her  vigor,  and  fell  back  quietly  and  slowly  under  the 
clay.  Teig  did  to  her  as  lie  had  done  to  the  man — he 
threw  the  clay  back  on  her,  and  left  the  flags  down  over 
head. 


36  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

lie  began  digging  again  near  the  door,  but  before  he 
had  thrown  up  more  than  a  couple  of  shovelfuls,  he 
noticed  a  man's  hand  laid  bare  by  the  spade.  "  By  my 
soul,  I'll  go  no  further,  then,"  said  he  to  himself ;  "  what 
use  is  it  for  me  ?  "  And  he  threw  the  clay  in  again  on  it, 
and  settled  the  flags  as  they  had  been  before. 

lie  left  the  church  then,  and  his  heart  was  heavy  enough, 
but  he  shut  the  door  and  locked  it,  and  left  the  key  where 
he  found  it.  He  sat  down  on  a  tombstone  that  was  near 
the  door,  and  began  thinking.  He  was  in  great  doubt 
what  he  should  do.  He  laid  his  face  between  his  two 
hands,  and  cried  for  grief  and  fatigue,  since  he  was  dead 
certain  at  this  time  that  he  never  would  come  home  alive. 
He  made  another  attempt  to  loosen  the  hands  of  the  corpse 
that  were  squeezed  round  his  neck,  but  they  were  as  tight 
as  if  they  were  clamped ;  and  the  more  he  tried  to  loosen 
them,  the  tighter  they  squeezed  him.  He  was  going  to  sit 
down  once  more,  when  the  cold,  horrid  lips  of  the  dead 
man  said  to  him,  "  Carrick-fhad-vic-Orus,"  and  he  remem 
bered  the  command  of  the  good  people  to  bring  the  corpse 
with  him  to  that  place  if  he  should  be  unable  to  bury  it 
where  he  had  been. 

He  rose  up,  and  looked  about  him.  "  I  don't  know  the 
way,"  he  said. 

He  soon  as  he  had  uttered  the  word,  the  corpse 
stretched  out  suddenly  its  left  hand  that  had  been 
tightened  round  his  neck,  and  kept  it  pointing  out,  show 
ing  him  the  road  he  ought  to  follow.  Teig  went  in  the 
direction  that  the  fingers  were  stretched,  and  passed  out 
of  the  churchyard.  He  found  himself  on  an  old  rutty, 
stony  road,  and  he  stood  still  again,  not  knowing  where  to 
turn.  The  corpse  stretched  out  its  bony  hand  a  second 
time,  and  pointed  out  to  him  another  road — not  the  road 
by  which  he  had  come  when  approaching  the  old  church. 
Teig  followed  that  road  and  whenever  he  came  to  a  path 
or  road  meeting,  the  corpse  always  stretched  out  its  hand 
and  pointed  with  its  fingers,  showing  him  the  way  he 
was  to  take. 


TEIG  O'KAXK  AND  THE  CORPSE.  37 

Many  was  the  cross-road  he  turned  down,  and  many 
was  the  crooked  boreen  he  walked,  until  he  saw  from  him 
an  old  burying-ground  at  last,  beside  the  road,  but  there 
was  neither  church  nor  chapel  nor  any  other  building  in 
it.  The  corpse  squeezed  him  tightly,  and  he  stood. 
"  Bury  me,  bury  me  in  the  burying-ground,"  said  the 
voice. 

Teig  drew  over  towards  the  old  burying-place,  and  he 
was  not  more  than  about  twenty  yards  from  it,  when  rais 
ing  his  eyes,  he  saw  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  ghosts — 
men,  women,  and  children — sitting  on  the  top  of  the  wall 
round  about,  or  standing  on  the  inside  of  it,  or  running 
backwards  and  forwards,  and  pointing  at  him,  while  he 
could  see  their  mouths  opening  and  shutting  as  if  they 
were  speaking,  though  he  heard  no  word,  nor  any  sound 
amongst  them  all. 

lie  was  afraid  to  go  forward,  so  he  stood  where  he  was, 
and  the  moment  he  stood,  all  the  ghosts  became  quiet,  and 
ceased  moving.  Then  Teig  understood  that  it  was  try 
ing  to  keep  him  from  going  in,  that  they  were.  He 
walked  a  couple  of  yards  forwards,  and  immediately  the 
whole  crowd  rushed  together  towards  the  spot  to  which 
he  was  moving,  and  they  stood  so  thickly  together  that  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  never  could  break  through  them, 
even  though  he  had  a  mind  to  try.  But  he  had  no  mind 
to  try  it.  He  went  back  broken  and  dispirited,  and 
when  he  had  gone  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  from 
the  burying-ground,  he  stood  again,  for  he  did  not  know 
what  way  he  was  to  go.  He  heard  the  voice  of  the  corpse 
in  his  ear,  saying  "Teampoll-Ronan,"  and  the  skinny 
hand  was  stretched  out  again,  pointing  him  out  the  road. 

As  tired  as  he  was,  he  had  to  walk,  and  the  road  was 
neither  short  nor  even.  The  night  was  darker  than  ever 
and  it  was  difficult  to  make  his  way.  Many  was  the  toss 
he  got,  and  many  a  bruise  they  left  on  his  body.  At  last 
he  saw  Teampoll-Ronan  from  him  in  the  distance,  stand 
ing  in  the  middle  of  the  burying-ground.  He  moved  over 
towards  it,  and  thought  he  was  all  right  and  safe,  when  he 


38  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

s;t\v  no  ghosts  nor  anything  else  on  the  wall,  and  he 
thought  he  would  never  be  hindered  now  from  leaving  his 
load  off  him  at  last.  lie  moved  over  to  the  gate,  but  as 
he  was  passing  in,  he  tripped  on  the  threshold.  Before 
he  could  recover  himself,  something  that  he  could  not  see 
seized  him  by  the  neck,  by  the  hands  and  by  the  feet,  and 
bruised  him,  and  shook  him,  and  choked  him,  until  he  was 
nearly  dead ;  and  at  last  he  was  lifted  up,  and  carried 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  from  that  place,  and  then 
thrown  down  in  an  old  dyke,  with  the  corpse  still  clinging 
to  him. 

He  rose  up,  bruised  and  sore,  but  feared  to  go  near  the 
place  again,  for  he  had  seen  nothing  the  time  he  was 
thrown  down  and  carried  away. 

"  You  corpse  upon  my  back,"  said  he,  "  shall  I  go  over 
again  to  the  churchyard  ?  " — but  the  corpse  never  an 
swered  him.  "  That's  a  sign  you  don't  wish  me  to  try  it 
again,"  said  Teig. 

He  was  now  in  great  doubt  as  to  what  he  ought  to  do, 
when  the  corpse  spoke  in  his  ear,  and  said  "  Imlogue-Fada." 

"  Oh,  murder  !  "  said  Teig,  "  must  I  bring  you  there  ? 
If  you  keep  me  long  walking  like  this,  I  tell  you  I'll  fall 
under  you." 

He  went  on,  however,  in  the  direction  the  corpse 
pointed  out  to  him.  He  could  not  have  told,  himself,  how 
long  he  had  been  going,  when  the  dead  man  behind  sud 
denly  squeezed  him,  and  said,  "  There  !  " 

Teig  looked  from  him,  and  he  saw  a  little  low  wall,  that 
was  so  broken  down  in  places  that  it  was  no  wall  at  all. 
It  was  in  a  great  wide  field,  in  from  the  road ;  and  only 
for  three  or  four  great  stones  at  the  corners,  that  were 
more  like  rocks  than  stones,  there  was  nothing  to  show 
that  there  was  either  graveyard  or  burying-ground  there. 

"  Is  this  Imlogue-Fada  ?  Shall  I  bury  you  here  ?  "  said 
Teig. 

"  Y^es,"  said  the  voice. 

"  But  I  see  no  grave  or  gravestone,  only  this  pile  of 
stones,"  said  Teig. 


TEIG  O'KANE  AND  THE  CORPSE.  39 

The  corpse  did  not  answer,  hut  stretched  out  its  long 
fleshless  hand,  to  show  Teig  the  direction  in  which  he 
was  to  go.  Teig  went  on  accordingly,  hut  he  was  greatly 
terrified,  for  he  remembered  what  had  happened  to  him 
at  the  last  place,  lie  went  on,  "with  his  heart  in  his 
mouth,"  as  he  said  himself  afterwards  ;  hut  when  he  came 
to  within  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  of  the  little  low  square 
wall,  there  broke  out  a  flash  of  lightning,  bright  yellow 
and  red,  with  blue  streaks  in  it,  and  went  round  about  the 
wall  in  one  course,  and  it  swept  by  as  fast  as  the  swallow  in 
the  clouds,  and  the  longer  Teig  remained  looking  at  it  the 
faster  it  went,  till  at  last  it  became  like  a  bright  ring  of 
flame  round  the  old  graveyard,  which  no  one  could  pass 
without  being  burnt  by  it.  Teig  never  saw,  from  the  time 
he  was  born,  and  never  saw  afterwards,  so  wonderful  or  so 
splendid  a  sight  as  that  was.  Round  went  the  flame,  white 
and  yellow  and  blue  sparks  leaping  out  from  it  as  it 
went,  and  although  at  first  it  had  been  no  more  than  a 
thin,  narrow  line,  it  increased  slowly  until  it  was  at  last 
a  great  broad  hand,  and  it  was  continually  getting  broader 
and  higher,  and  throwing  out  more  brilliant  sparks,  till 
there  was  never  a  color  on  the  ridge  of  the  earth  that  was 
not  to  be  seen  in  that  fire  ;  and  lightning  never  shone  and 
flame  never  flamed  that  was  so  shining  and  so  bright  as 
that. 

Teig  was  amazed;  he  was  half  dead  with  fatigue,  and 
he  had  no  courage  left  to  approach  the  wall.  There  fell 
a  mist  over  his  eyes,  and  there  came  a  mH>r<nrn  in  his 
head,  and  he  was  obliged  to  sit  down  upon  a  great  stone 
to  recover  himself.  lie  could  see  nothing  but  the  light, 
and  he  could  hear  nothing  but  the  whirr  of  it  as  it  shot 
round  the  paddock  faster  than  a  flash  of  lightning. 

As  he  sat  there  on  the  stone,  the  voice  whispered  once 
more  in  his  ear,  "  Kill-Breedya ; "  and  the  dead  man 
squeezed  him  so  tightly  that  he  cried  out.  He  rose  again, 
sick,  tired,  and  trembling,  and  went  forwards  as  he  was 
directed.  The  wind  was  cold,  and  the  road  was  had,  and 
the  load  upon  his  back  was  heavy,  and  the  night  was 


40  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

dark,  and  he  himself  was  nearly  worn  out,  and  if  he  had 
had  very  much  farther  to  go  he  must  have  fallen  dead 
under  his  burden. 

At  last  the  corpse  stretched  out  its  hand,  and  said  to 
him,  "  Bury  me  there." 

"  This  is  the  last  burying-place,"  said  Teig  in  his  own 
mind;  "and  the  little  gray  man  said  I'd  be  allowed  to 
bury  him  in  some  of  them,  so  it  must  be  this ;  it  can't  be 
but  they'll  let  him  in  here." 

The  first  faint  streak  of  the  ring  of  day  was  appearing 
in  the  east,  and  the  clouds  were  beginning  to  catch  fire, 
but  it  was  darker  than  ever,  for  the  moon  was  set,  and 
there  were  no  stars. 

"  Make  haste,  make  haste  ! "  said  the  corpse  ;  and  Teig 
hurried  forward  as  well  as  he  could  to  the  graveyard, 
which  was  a  little  place  on  a  bare  hill,  with  only  a  few 
graves  in  it.  He  walked  boldly  in  through  the  open  gate, 
and  nothing  touched  him,  nor  did  he  either  hear  or  see 
anything.  He  came  to  the  middle  of  the  ground,  and 
then  stood  up  and  looked  round  him  for  a  spade  or  shovel 
to  make  a  grave.  As  lie  was  turning  round  and  search 
ing,  he  suddenly  perceived  what  startled  him  greatly — a 
newly-dug  grave  right  before  him.  He  moved  over  to  it, 
and  looked  down,  and  there  at  the  bottom  he  saw  a  black 
coffin.  He  clambered  down  into  the  hole  and  lifted  the 
lid,  and  found  that  (as  he  thought  it  would  be)  the  coffin 
was  empty.  He  had  hardly  mounted  up  out  of  the  hole, 
and  was  standing  on  the  brink,  when  the  corpse,  which 
had  clung  to  him  for  more  than  eight  hours,  suddenly 
relaxed  its  hold  of  his  neck,  and  loosened  its  shins  from 
round  his  hips,  and  sank  down  with  a  plop  into  the  coffin. 

Teig  fell  down  on  his  two  knees  at  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  and  gave  thanks  to  God.  He  made  no  delay  then, 
but  pressed  down  the  coffin  lid  in  its  place,  and  threw  in 
the  clay  over  it  with  his  two  hands ;  and  when  the  grave 
was  filled  up,  he  stamped  and  leaped  on  it  with  his  feet, 
until  it  was  firm  and  hard,  and  then  he  left  the  place. 

The  sun  was  fast  rising  as  he  finished  his  work,  and  the 


PADDY  CORCORAN'S  WIFE.  41 

first  thing  lie  did  was  to  return  to  the  road,  and  look  out 
for  a  house  to  rest  himself  in.  He  found  an  inn  at  last, 
and  lay  down  upon  a  bed  there,  and  slept  till  night. 
Then  he  rose  up  and  ate  a  little,  and  fell  asleep  again  till 
morning.  When  he  awoke  in  the  morning  he  hired  a 
horse  and  rode  home.  lie  was  more  than  twenty-six 
miles  from  home  where  he  was,  and  he  had  come  all  that 
way  with  the  dead  body  on  his  back  in  one  night. 

All  the  people  at  his  own  home  thought  that  he  must 
have  left  the  country,  and  they  rejoiced  greatly  when 
they  saw  him  come  back.  Every  one  began  asking  him 
where  he  had  been,  and  he  would  not  tell  anyone  except 
his  father. 

He  was  a  changed  man  from  that  day.  He  never  drank 
too  much  ;  he  never  lost  his  money  over  cards;  and  espe 
cially  he  would  not  take  the  world  and  be  out  late  by 
himself  of  a  dark  night. 

lie  was  not  a  fortnight  at  home  until  he  married  Mary, 
the  girl  he  had  been  in  love  with  ;  and  it's  at  their  \ved- 
ding  the  sport  was,  and  it's  he  was  the  happy  man  from 
that  day  forward,  and  it's  all  I  wish  that  we  may  be  as 
happy  as  he  was. 

GLOSSARY. — Ranii,  a  stanza:  kailee  (ceilidlte),  a  visit  in  the 
evening;  wirra  (amhuire),  "Oh,  Mary!"  an  exclamation  like 
the  French  dame ;  rib,  a  single  hair  (in  Irish,  ribe}\  a  lock  (glac), 
a  bundle  or  wisp,  or  a  little  share  of  anything  ;  kippeen  (cipiu),  a 
rod  or  twig;  boreen  (boitJirin) ,  a  lane  ;  bodach,  a  clown  ;  soor- 
(t,irn  (xnardu),  vertigo.  Avic  (a  Mhic)  =my  sou,  or  rather,  Oh, 
son.  Mic  is  the  vocative  of  Mac. 


PADDY  CORCORAN'S  WIFE. 

WILLIAM    CARLE TOX. 

PADDY  CORCORAX'S  wife  was  for  several  years  afflicted 
with  a  kind  of  complaint  which  nobody  could  properly 
understand.  She  was  sick,  and  she  was  not  sick ;  she 
was  well,  and  she  was  not  well ;  she  was  as  ladies  wish  to 


±•2  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

be  who  love  their  lords,  and  she  \vas  not  as  such  ladies 
wish  to  be.  In  fact  nobody  could  tell  what  the  matter 
with  her  was.  She  had  a  gnawing  at  the  heart  which 
came  heavily  upon  her  husband ;  for,  with  the  help  of 
God,  a  keener  appetite  than  the  same  gnawing  amounted 
to  could  not  be  met  with  of  a  summer's  day.  The  poor 
woman  was  delicate  beyond  belief,  and  had  no  appetite  at 
all,  so  she  hadn't,  barring  a  little  relish  for  a  mutton-chop, 
or  a  "  staik,"  or  a  bit  o'  mait,  anyway,  for  sure,  God  help 
her !  she  hadn't  the  laist  inclination  for  the  dhry  pratie, 
or  the  clhrop  o'  sour  buttermilk  along  wid  it,  especially  as 
she  was  so  poorly ;  and,  indeed,  for  a  woman  in  her  con 
dition — for,  sick  as  she  was,  poor  Paddy  always  was  made 
to  believe  her  in  that  condition — but  God's  will  be  done  ! 
she  didn't  care.  A  pratie  an'  a  grain  o'  salt  was  a  wel 
come  to  her — glory  be  to  his  name  ! — as  the  best  roast  an' 
boiled  that  ever  was  dressed ;  and  why  not  ?  There  was 
one  comfort :  she  wouldn't  be  long  wid  him — long  troub- 
lin'  him ;  it  matthered  little  what  she  got ;  but  sure  she 
knew  herself,  that  from  the  gnawin'  at  her  heart,  she 
could  never  do  good  widout  the  little  bit  o'  mait  now 
and  then ;  an',  sure,  if  her  own  husband  begridged  it 
to  her,  who  else  had  she  a  better  right  to  expect  it 
from  ? 

Well,  as  we  have  said,  she  lay  a  bedridden  invalid  for 
long  enough,  trying  doctors  and  quacks  of  all  sorts,  sexes, 
and  sizes,  and  all  without  a  farthing's  benefit,  until,  at  the 
long  run,  poor  Paddy  was  nearly  brought  to  the  last  pass, 
in  striving  to  keep  her  in  "  the  bit  o'  mait."  The  seventh 
year  was  now  on  the  point  of  closing,  when,  one  harvest 
day,  as  she  lay  bemoaning  her  hard  condition,  on  her  bed 
beyond  the  kitchen  fire,  a  little  weeshy  woman,  dressed 
in  a  neat  red  cloak,  comes  in,  and,  sitting  down  by  the 
hearth,  says  :— 

"  Well,  Kitty  Corcoran,  you've  had  a  long  lair  of  it 
there  on  the  broad  o'  yer  back  for  seven  years,  an'  you're 
jist  as  far  from  bein'  cured  as  ever." 

"  Mavrone,  ay,"  said  the  other ;  "  in  throth  that's  what 


CUSHEEN  LOO.  43 

I  was  this  minnit  thinkin'  ov,  and  a  sorrowful  thought  it's 
to  me." 

"  It's  yer  own  fau't,  thin,"  says  the  little  woman ;  "  an', 
indeed,  for  that  matter,  it's  yer  fau't  that  ever  you  wor 
there  at  all." 

"  Arra,  how  is  that?  "  asked  Kitty  ;  "sure  I  wouldn't  be 
here  if  I  could  help  it  ?  Do  you  think  it's  a  comfort  or  a 
pleasure  to  me  to  be  sick  and  bedridden  ?  " 

"  Xo,"  said  the  other,  "  I  do  not ;  but  Til  tell  you  the 
truth :  for  the  last  seven  years  you  have  been  annoying 
us.  I  am  one  o'  the  good  people  ;  an'  as  I  have  a  regard 
for  you,  I'm  come  to  let  you  know  the  raison  why  you've 
been  sick  so  long  as  you  are.  For  all  the  time  you've 
been  ill,  if  you'll  take  the  thrubble  to  remimber,  your 
ohildhre  threwn  out  yer  dirty  wather  afther  dusk  an'  be 
fore  sunrise,  at  the  very  time  we're  passin' yer  door,  which 
we  pass  twice  a-day.  Now,  if  you  avoid  this,  if  you  throw 
it  out  in  a  different  place,  an'  at  a  different  time,  the 
complaint  you  have  will  lave  you  :  so  will  the  gnu  win'  at 
the  heart ;  an'  you'll  lie  as  well  as  ever  you  wor.  If  yon 
don't  follow  this  advice,  why,  remain  as  you  are,  an'  all 
the  art  o'  man  can't  cure  you."  She  then  bade  her  good 
bye,  and  disappeared. 

Kitty,  who  was  glad  to  be  cured  on  such  easy  terms, 
immediately  complied  with  the  injunction  of  the  fairy  ; 
and  the  consequence  was,  that  the  next  day  she  found 
herself  in  as  good  health  as  ever  she  enjoyed  during  her 
life. 


CUSHEEX  LOO. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE    IRISH   BY  J.    J.    CALLAXAX. 

[Tins  song  is  supposed  to  have  been  sung  by  a  young  bride, 
who  was  forcibly  detained  in  one  of  those  forts  which  are 
so  common  in  Ireland,  and  to  which  the  good  people  are 
very  fond  of  resorting.  Under  pretence  of  hushing  her 
child  to  rest,  she  retired  to  the  outside  margin  of  the  fort, 


44  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

and  addressed  the  burthen  of  her  song  to  a  young  woman 
whom  she  saw  at  a  short  distance,  and  whom  she  re 
quested  to  inform  her  husband  of  her  condition,  and  to 
desire  him  to  bring  the  steel  knife  to  dissolve  the  en 
chantment. 

SLEEP,  my  child !  for  the  rustling  trees, 
Stirr'd  by  the  breath  of  summer  breeze, 
And  fairy  songs  of  sweetest  note, 
Around  us  gently  float. 

Sleep  !  for  the  weeping  flowers  have  shed 
Their  fragrant  tears  upon  thy  head, 
The  voice  of  love  hath  sooth'd  thy  rest, 
And  thy  pillow  is  a  mother's  breast. 
Sleep,  my  child ! 

Weary  hath  pass'd  the  time  forlorn, 
Since  to  your  mansion  I  was  borne, 
Tho'  bright  the  feast  of  its  airy  halls, 
And  the  voice  of  mirth  resounds  from  its  walls. 
Sleep,  my  child ! 

Full  many  a  maid  and  blooming  bride 
Within  that  splendid  dome  abide, — 
And  many  a  hoar  and  shrivel'd  sage, 
And  many  a  matron  bow'd  with  age. 
Sleep,  my  child ! 

Oh  !  thou  who  nearest  this  song  of  fear, 
To  the  mourner's  home  these  tidings  bear. 
Bid  him  bring  the  knife  of  the  magic  blade, 
At  whose  lightning-flash  the  charm  will  fade. 
Sleep,  my  child ! 

Haste !  for  to-morrow's  sun  will  see 
The  hateful  spell  renewed  for  me ; 
Nor  can  I  from  that  home  depart, 
Till  life  shall  leave  my  Avithering  heart. 
Sleep,  my  child! 


THE  WHITE  TROUT  ;  A  LEGEND  OF  CONG.          45 

Sleep,  my  child  !  for  the  rustling  trees, 
Stirr'd  by  the  breath  of  summer  breeze, 
And  fairy  songs  of  sweetest  note, 
Around  us  gently  float. 


THE  WHITE  THOrT;  A  LEGEND  OF  CONG. 

i;v    s.  1,0  VKR. 

TIIKKK  was  wanst  upon  a  time,  long  ago,  a  beautiful 
lady  that  lived  in  a  castle  upon  tin:  lake  beyant,  and  they 
say  she  was  promised  to  a  king's  son,  and  they  wor  to 
be  married,  when  all  of  a  sudden  he  was  nmrthered,  the 
crathur  (Lord  help  us),  and  thrown  into  the  lake*  above, 
and  so,  of  course,  he  couldn't  keep  his  promise  to  the  fair 
lady, — and  more's  the  pity. 

Well,  the  story  goes  that  she  went  out  iv  her  mind, 
bekase  av  loosin'  the  king's  son— for  she  was  tendber- 
hearted,  God  help  her,  like  the  rest  iv  us!  and  pined 
away  after  him,  until  at  last,  no  one  about  seen  her,  good 
or  bad ;  and  the  story  wint  that  the  fairies  took  her 
away. 

Well,  sir,  in  coorse  o'  time,  the  White  Throut,  God 
bless  it,  was  seen  in  the  sthrame  beyant,  and  sure  the 
people  didn't  know  what  to  think  av  the  crathur,  seem"  as 
how  a  white  throut  was  never  heard  av  afor,  nor  since  ; 
and  years  upon  years  the  throut  was  there,  just  when* 
you  seen  it  this  blessed  minit,  longer  nor  I  can  tell — aye; 
throth,  and  beyant  the  memory  o'  th'  ouldest  in  the 
village. 

At  last  the  people  began  to  think  it  must  be  a  fairy  ; 
for  what  else  could  it  be  ? — and  no  hurt  nor  harm  was 
iver  put  an  the  white  throut,  until  some  wicked  sinners 
of  sojers  kern  to  these  parts,  and  laughed  at  all  the  people, 
and  gibed  and  jeered  them  for  thinkin'  o'  the  likes;  and 
one  o'  them  in  partic'lar  (bad  luck  to  him  ;  God  forgi'  me 


4G  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

for  saying  it!)  swore  he'd  catch  the  throut  and  ate  it  for 
his  dinner  the  blackguard  ! 

Well,  what  would  you  think  o'  the  villainy  of  the  sojer  ? 
Sure  enough  lie  eotch  the  throut,  and  away  wid  him 
home,  and  puts  an  the  fryin'-pan,  and  into  it  he  pitches 
the  purty  little  thing.  The  throut  squeeled  all  as  one  as 
a  Christian  crathur,  and,  my  dear,  you'd  think  the  sojer 
id  split  his  sides  laughin' — for  he  was  a  harden'd  villain; 
and  when  he  thought  one  side  was  done,  he  turns  it  over  to 
fry  the  other ;  and,  what  would  you  think,  but  the  divil 
a  taste  of  a  burn  was  an  it  at  all  at  all ;  and  sure  the  sojer 
thought  it  was  a  qxare  throut  that  could  not  be  briled. 
"  Hut,"  says  he,  "I'll  give  it  another  turn  by-and-by," 
little  think  in'  what  was  in  store  for  him,  the  hay  then. 

Well,  when  lie  thought  that  side  was  done  he  turns  it 
agin,  and  lo  and  behould  you,  the  divil  a  taste  more  done 
that  side  was  nor  the  other.  "  Had  luck  to  me,"  says  the 
sojer,  "but  that  bates  the  world,"  says  he;  "but  I'll  thry 
you  agin,  my  darlint,"  says  he,  "  as  cunning  as  you  think 
yourself  ; "  and  so  with  that  he  turns  it  over  and  over,  but 
not  a  sign  of  the  lire  was  on  the  purty  throut.  "  Well," 
says  the  desperate  villain — (for  sure,  sir,  only  he  was  a  des 
perate  villain  entirely,  he  might  know  he  was  doing  a  wrong 
thing,  seein'  that  all  his  endeavors  was  no  good)— 
"  Well,"  says  he,  "  my  jolly  little  throut,  maybe  you're 
fried  enough,  though  you  don't  seem  over  well  dress'd ; 
but  you  may  be  better  than  you  look,  like  a  singed  cat, 
and  a  tit-bit  afther  all,"  says  he;  and  with  that  he  ups 
with  his  knife  and  fork  to  taste  a  piece  o'  the  throut ; 
but,  my  jew'l,  the  minit  he  puts  his  knife  into  the  fish, 
there  was  a  murtherin'  screech,  that  you'd  think  the  life 
id  lave  you  if  you  hurd  it,  and  away  jumps  the  throut 
out  av  the  fryin'-pan  into  the  middle  o'  the  flure ;  and  an 
the  spot  where  it  fell,  up  riz  a  lovely  lady — the  beautiful- 
lest  crathur  that  eyes  ever  seen,  dressed  in  white,  and  a 
band  o'  goold  in  her  hair,  and  a  sthrame  o'  blood  runnin' 
down  her  arm. 


THE  WHITE  TROUT  ;  A  LEGEND  OF  CONG.          47 

"  Look  where  you  cut  me,  you  villain,"  says  she,  and 
she  held  out  her  arm  to  him— and,  my  dear,  he  thought 
the  sight  id  lave  his  eyes. 

"  Couldn't  you  lave  me  cool  and  comfortable  in  the 
river  where  you  snared  me,  and  not  disturb  me  in  my 
duty  ?  "  says  she. 

Well,  he  thrimbled  like  a  dog  in  a  wet  sack,  and  at  last 
he  stammered  out  something  and  begged  for  his  life,  and 
ax'd  her  ladyship's  pardin,  and  said  he  didn't  know  she 
was  on  duty,  or  he  was  too  good  a  sojer  not  to  know  bet- 
ther  nor  to  meddle  wid  her. 

"  I  iff*  on  duty,  then,"  says  she  lady  ;  "  I  was  watchin' 
for  my  true  love  that  is  comin'  by  wather  to  me,"  says 
she,  "  an'  if  he  comes  while  I'm  away,  an'  that  I  miss  iv 
him,  I'll  turn  you  into  a  pinkeen,  and  I'll  hunt  you  up 
and  down  for  evermore,  while  grass  grows  or  wather 
runs." 

Well  the  sojer  thought  the  life  id  lave  him,  at  the 
thoughts  iv  his  bein'  turned  into  a  pinkeen,  and  begged 
for  mercy  ;  and  with  that  says  the  lady— 

Renounce  your  evil  coorses,"  says  she,  "  you  villain,  or 
you'll  repint  it  too  late  ;  be  a  good  man  for  the  futhur, 
and  go  to  your  duty  *  reg'lar,  and  now,"  says  she,  "take 
me  back  and  put  me  into  the  river  again,  where  you 
found  me." 

u  Oh,  my  lady,"  says  the  sojer,  "how  could  I  have  the 
heart  to  drownd  a  beautiful  lady  like  you  ?  " 

But  before  he  could  say  another  word,  the  lady  was 
vanished,  and  there  he  saw  the  little  throut  an  the  ground. 
Well  he  put  it  in  a  clean  plate,  and  away  he  runs  for  the 
bare  life,  for  fear  her  lover  would  come  while  she  was 
away ;  and  he  run,  and  he  run,  even  till  he  came  to  the 
cave  agin,  and  threw  the  throut  into  the  river.  The  minit 
he  did,  the  wather  was  as  red  as  blood  for  a  little  while, 
by  rayson  a v  the  cut,  I  suppose,  until  the  sthrame  washed 

*  The    Irish  peasant  calls  his  attendance  at  the  confessional 

"  going  to  his  duty." 


48  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  stain  away  ;  and  to  this  day  there's  a  little  red  mark 
an  the  throut's  side,  where  it  was  cut.* 

Well,  sir,  from  that  day  out  the  sojer  was  an  altered 
man,  and  reformed  his  ways,  and  went  to  his  duty  reg'lar, 
and  fasted  three  times  a- week — though  it  was  never  fish 
he  tuk  an  fastin'  days,  for  afther  the  fright  he  got,  fish  id 
never  rest  an  his  stomach — savin'  your  presence. 

But  anyhow,  he  was  an  altered  man,  as  I  said  before, 
and  in  coorse  o'  time  he  left  the  army,  and  turned  hermit 
at  last ;  and  they  say  he  used  to  pray  evermore  for  the 
soul  of  the  White  2  hr out. 

[These  trout  stories  are  common  all  over  Ireland. 
Many  holy  wells  are  haunted  by  such  blessed  trout.  There 
is  a  trout  in  a  well  on  the  border  of  Lough  Gill,  Sligo, 
that  some  paganish  person  put  once  on  the  gridiron.  It 
carries  the  marks  to  this  day.  Long  ago,  the  saint  who 
sanctified  the  well  put  that  trout  there.  Nowadays  it  is 
only  visible  to  the  pious,  who  have  done  due  penance.] 


THE  FAIRY  THORN. 

An  Ulster  Ballad 

SIR  SAMUEL  FERGUSON. 

"  GET  up,  our  Anna  dear,  from  the  weary  spinning-wheel  ; 

For  your  father's  on  the  hill,  and  your  mother  is  asleep  ; 
Come  up  above  the  crags,  and  we'll  dance  a  highland-reel 

Around  the  fairy  thorn  on  the  steep." 

At  Anna  Grace's  door  'twas  thus  the  maidens  cried, 
Three  merry  maidens  fair  in  kirtles  of  the  green ; 

And  Anna  laid  the  rock  and  the  weary  wheel  aside, 
The  fairest  of  the  four,  I  ween. 

They're  glancing  through  the  glimmer  of  the  quiet  rv*«, 
Away  in  milky  wavings  of  neck  and  ankle  bare ; 

*  The  fish  has  really  a  red  spot  on  its  side. 


THE  FAIRY  THORN.  49 

The  heavy-sliding  stream  in  its  sleepy  song  they  leave, 
And  the  crags  in  the  ghostly  air ; 

And  linking  hand  in  hand,  and  singing  as  they  go, 

The  maids  along  the  hill-side  have  ta'en  their  fearless 

way, 
Till  they  come  to  where  the  rowan  trees  in  lonely  beauty 

grow 
Beside  the  Fairy  Hawthorn  gray. 

The  Hawthorn  stands  between  the  ashes  tall  and  slim, 
Like  matron  with  her    twin   grand-daughters   at  her 
knee ; 

The  rowan  berries  cluster  o'er  her  low  head  gray  and  dim 
In  ruddy  kisses  sweet  to  see. 

The  merry  maidens  four  have  ranged  them  in  a  row, 
lletween  each  lovely  couple  a  stately  rowan  stem, 

And  away  in  mazes  wavy,  like  skimming  birds  they  go, 
Oh,  never  caroll'd  bird  like  them  ! 

But  solemn  is  the  silence  of  the  silvery  haze 

That  drinks  away  their  voices  in  echoless  repose, 

And  dreamily  the  evening  has  still'd  the  haunted  braes, 
And  dreamier  the  gloaming  grows. 

And  sinking  one  by  one,  like  lark-notes  from  the  sky 
When  the    falcon's    shadow   saileth   across    the   open 

shaw, 
Are  hush'd  the  maiden's  voices,  as  cowering  down  they 

lie 
In  the  flutter  of  their  sudden  awe. 

For,  from  the  air  above,  and  the  grassy  ground  beneath. 
And  from  the  mountain-ashes  and  the  old  Whitethorn 

between, 
A  Power  of  faint  enchantment  doth  through  their  beings 

breathe, 

And  they  sink  down  together  on  the  green. 
4 


50  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

They  sink  together  silent,  and  stealing  side  by  side, 
They  fling  their  lovely  arms  o'er  their  drooping  necks 
so  fair, 

Then  vainly  strive  again  their  naked  arms  to  hide, 
For  their  shrinking  necks  again  are  bare. 

Thus  clasp'd  and  prostrate  all,  with  their  heads  together 

bow'd, 
Soft    o'er    their    bosom's   beating — the    only  human 

sound — 

They  hear  the  silky  footsteps  of  the  silent  fairy  crowd, 
Like  a  river  in  the  air,  gliding  round. 

No  scream  can  any  raise,  no  prayer  can  any  say, 
But  wild,  wild,  the^terror  of  the  speechless  three — 

For  they  feel  fair  Anna  Grace  drawn  silently  away, 
By  whom  they  dare  not  look  to  see. 

They  feel  their  tresses  twine  with  her  parting  locks  of 

gold 

And  the  curls  elastic  falling  as  her  head  withdraws  ; 
They  feel  her  sliding  arms  from  their  tranced  arms  un 
fold, 
But  they  may  not  look  to  see  the  cause : 

For  heavy  on  their  senses  the  faint  enchantment  lies 
Through  all  that  night  of  anguish  and  perilous  amaze ; 

And  neither  fear  nor  wonder  can  ope  their  quivering  eyes, 
Or  their  limbs  from  the  cold  ground  raise, 

Till  out  of  night  the  earth  has  roll'd  her  dewy  side, 
With  every  haunted  mountain  and  streamy  vale  below ; 

When,  as  the  mist  dissolves  in  the  yellow  morning  tide, 
The  maidens'  trance  dissolveth  so. 

Then  fly  the  ghastly  three  as  swiftly  as  they  may, 

And  tell   their  tale  of  sorrow  to  anxious   friends   in 
vain— 

They  pined  away  and  died  within  the  year  and  day, 
And  ne'er  was  Anna  Grace  seen  again. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  KNOCtfG&AFTON.  51 

* 

THE  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKGRAFTON. 

T.  CROFTOX  CROKER. 

THERE  was  once  a  poor  man  who  lived  in  the  fertile 
glen  of  Aherlow,  at  the  foot  of  the  gloomy  Gal  tee  moun 
tains,  and  he  had  a  great  hump  on  his  back  :  lie  looked 
just  as  if  his  body  had  been  rolled  up  and  placed  upon 
his  shoulders  :  and  his  head  was  pressed  down  with  the 
weight  so  much  that  his  chin,  when  he  was  sitting,  used 
to  rest  upon  his  knees  for  support.  The  country  people 
were  rather  shy  of  meeting  him  in  any  lonesome  place,  for 
though,  poor  creature,  he  was  as  harmless  and  as  inof 
fensive  as  a  new-born  infant,  yet  his  deformity  was  so 
great  that  he  scarcely  appeared  to  be  a  human  creature, 
and  some  ill-minded  persons  had  set  strange  stories  about 
him  afloat.  He  was  said  to  have  a  great  knowledge  of 
herbs  and  charms  ;  but  certain  it  was  that  he  had  a  mighty 
skilful  hand  in  plaiting  straws  and  rushes  into  hats  and 
baskets,  which  was  the  way  he  made  his  livelihood. 

Lusmore,  for  that  was  the  nickname  put  upon  him  by 
reason  of  his  always  wearing  a  sprig  of  the  jairy  cap,  or 
lusmore  (the  foxglove),  in  his  little  straw  hat,  would  ever 
get  a  higher  penny  for  his  plaited  work  than  any  one  else, 
and  perhaps  that  was  the  reason  why  some  one,  out  of 
envy,  had  circulated  the  strange  stories  about  him.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  it  happened  that  he  was  returning  one 
evening  from  the  pretty  town  of  Cahir  towards  Cappagh, 
and  as  little  Lusmore  walked  very  slowly,  on  account  of 
the  great  hump  upon  his  back,  it  was  quite  dark  when  he 
came  to  the  old  moat  of  Knockgraf  ton,  which  stood  on  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  road.  Tired  and  weary  was  he,  and 
noways  comfortable  in  his  own  mind  at  thinking  how 
much  farther  he  had  to  travel,  and  that  he  should  be 
walking  all  the  night ;  so  he  sat  down  under  the  moat  to 


52  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

rest  himself,  and  began  looking  mournfully  enough  upon 
the  moon,  which — 

"  Rising  in  clouded  majesty,  at  length 
Apparent  Queen,  unveil'd  her  peerless  light, 
And  o'er  the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw." 

Presently  there  rose  a  wild  strain  of  unearthly  melody 
upon  the  ear  of  little  Lusmore ;  he  listened,  and  he  thought 
that  he  had  never  heard  such  ravishing  music  before.  It 
was  like  the  sound  of  many  voices,  each  mingling  and 
blending  with  the  other  so  strangely  that  they  seemed  to 
be  one,  though  all  singing  different  strains,  and  the  words 
of  the  song  were  these — 

Da  Luan,  Da  Mart,  Da  Luan,  Da  J/orf,  Da  Luan,  Da  Mort ; 

when  there  would  be  a  moment's  pause,  and  then  the  round 
of  melody  went  on  again. 

Lusmore  listened  attentively,  scarcely  drawing  his 
breath  lest  he  might  lose  the  slightest  note.  He  now 
plainly  perceived  that  the  singing  was  within  the  moat ; 
and  though  at  first  it  had  charmed  him  so  much,  he  began 
to  get  tired  of  hearing  the  same  round  sung  over  and  over 
so  often  without  any  change  ;  so  availing  himself  of  the 
pause  when  Da  Luan,  Da  Mort,  had  been  sung  three 
times,  he  took  up  the  tune,  and  raised  it  with  the  Avords 
aiigus  Da  Dardeen,  and  then  went  on  singing  with  the 
voices  inside  of  the  moat,  Da  Luan,  Da  Mort,  finishing 
the  melody,  when  the  pause  again  came,  with  augus  Da 
Dardeen. 

The  fairies  within  Knockgrafton,  for  the  song  was  a 
fairy  melody,  when  they  heard  this  addition  to  the  tune, 
were  so  much  delighted  that,  with  instant  resolve,  it  was 
determined  to  bring  the  mortal  among  them,  whose  musi- 
skill  so  far  exceeded  theirs,  and  little  Lusmore  was  con 
veyed  into  their  company  with  the  eddying  speed  of  a 
whirlwind. 

Glorious  to  behold  was  the  sight  that  burst  upon  him 
as  he  came  down  through  the  moat,  twirling  round  and 


THE  LE(JEND  OF  KXOCKORAFTON.  53 

round,  with  tin-  light  ness  of  a  straw,  to  the  sweetest  music 
that  kept  time  to  his  motion.  The  greatest  honor  was 
then  paid  him,  for  he  was  put  above  all  the  musicians, 
and  he  had  servants  tending  upon  him,  and  everything  to 
his  heart's  content,  and  a  hearty  welcome  to  all ;  and,  in 
short,  he  was  made  as  much  of  as  if  he  had  been  the  first 
man  in  the  land. 

Presently  Lusmore  saw  a  great  consultation  going  for 
ward  among  the  fairies,  and,  notwithstanding  all  their 
civility,  lie  felt  very  much  frightened,  until  one  stepping 
out  from  the  rest  came  up  to  him  and  said — 

"  Lusmore  !     Lusmore  ! 
Doubt  not,  nor  deplore, 
For  the  hump  which  you  bore 
On  your  b;u;k  is  no  more  ; 
Look  down  on  the  floor. 
And  view  it,  Lusmore  !  " 

When  these  words  were  said,  poor  little  Lusmore  felt 
himself  so  light,  and  so  happy,  that  he  thought  he  could 
have  bounded  at  one  jump  over  the  moon,  like  the  cow  in 
the  history  of  the  cat  and  the  fiddle ;  and  he  saw,  with 
inexpressible  pleasure,  his  hump  tumble  down  upon  the 
ground  from  his  shoulders.  lie  then  tried  to  lift  up  his 
head,  and  he  did  so  with  becoming  caution,  fearing  that 
he  might  knock  it  against  the  ceiling  of  the  grand  hall, 
where  he  was  ;  he  looked  round  and  round  again  with 
the  greatest  wonder  and  delight  upon  everything,. which 
appeared,  more  and  more  beautiful ;  and,  overpowered  at 
beholding  such  a  resplendent  scene,  his  head  grew  dizzy, 
and  his  eyesight  became  dim.  At  last  he  fell  into  a  sound 
sleep,  and  wrheii  he  awoke  he  found  that  it  was  broad  day 
light,  the  sun  shining  brightly,  and  the  birds  singing 
sweetly ;  and  that  he  was  lying  just  at  the  foot  of  the 
moat  of  Knockgrafton,  with  the  cows  and  sheep  grazing 
peaceably  round  about.  The  first  thing  Lusmore  did, 
after  saying  his  prayers  was  to  put  his  hand  behind  to 
feel  for  his  hump,  but  no  sign  of  one  was  there  on  his 

* 


54  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

back,  and  he  looked  at  himself  with  great  pride,  for  he 
had  now  become  a  well-shaped  dapper  little  fellow,  and 
more  than  that,  found  himself  in  a  full  suit  of  new  clothes, 
which  he  concluded  the  fairies  had  made  for  him. 

Toward  Cappagh  he  went,  stepping  out  as  lightly,  and 
springing  up  at  every  step  as  if  he  had  been  all  his  life  a 
dancing- master.  Not  a  creature  who  met  Lusmore  knew 
him  without  his  hump,  and  he  had  a  great  work  to  per 
suade  every  one  that  he  was  the  same  man — in  truth  he 
was  not,  so  far  as  the  outward  appearance  went. 

Of  course  it  was  not  long  before  the  story  of  Lusmore's 
hump  got  about,  and  a  great  wonder  was  made  of  it. 
Through  the  country,  for  miles  round,  it  was  the  talk  of 
every  one,  high  and  low. 

One  morning,  as  Lusmore  was  sitting  contented  enough 
at  his  cabin  door,  up  came  an  old  woman  to  him,  and  asked 
him  if  he  could  direct  her  to  Cappagh. 

"  I  need  give  you  no  directions,  my  good  woman,"  said 
Lusmore,  "  for  this  is  Cappagh  ;  and  whom  may  you  want 
here?" 

"  I  have  come,"  said  the  woman,  "  out  of  Decie's 
country,  in  the  county  of  Waterford,  looking  after  one 
Lusmore,  who  -I  have  heard  tell,  had  his  hump  taken  off 
by  the  fairies  ;  for  there  is  a  son  of  a  gossip  of  mine  who 
has  got  a  hump  on  him  that  will  be  his  death  ;  and  may 
be,  if  he  could  use  the  same  charm  as  Lusmore,  the  hump 
may  be  taken  off  him.  And  now  I  have  told  you  the 
reason  of  my  coming  so  far :  'tis  to  find  out  about  this 
charm  if  I  can." 

Lusmore,  who  was  ever  a  good-natured  little  fellow,  told 
the  woman  all  the  particulars,  how  he  had  raised  the  tune 
for  the  fairies  at  Knockgrafton,  how  his  hump  had  been 
removed  from  his  shoulders,  and  how  he  had  got  a  new 
suit  of  clothes  into  the  bargain. 

The  woman  thanked  him  very  much,  and  then  went 
away  quite  happy  and  easy  in  her  own  mind.  When  she 
came  back  to  her  gossip's  house,  in  the  county  of  Water- 
ford,  she  told  her  everything  that  Lusmore  had  said,  and 

i 


THE  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKGRAFTOX.  55 

they  put  the  little  hump-hacked  man,  who  was  a  peevish 
and  cunning  creature  from  his  hirth,  upon  a  car,  and  took 
him  all  the  way  across  the  country.  It  was  a  long  jour 
ney,  but  they  did  not  care  for  that,  so  the  hump  was  taken 
from  off  him ;  and  they  brought  him,  just  as  nightfall, 
and  left  him  under  the  old  mo.it  of  Knockgrafton. 

Jack  Madden,  for  that  was  the  humpy  man's  name,  had 
not  been  sitting  there  long  when  he  heard  the  tune  going 
on  within  the  moat  much  sweeter  than  before;  for  the 
fairies  were  singing  it  the  way  Lusmore  had  settled  their 
music  for  them,  and  the  song  was  going  on:  J)<i  Lmni, 
])<(  3f<>rf,  Do  Titian,  D<(  ^\r<>rf,  ])<i  T^inni,  J><(  Jfort,  <t>if/us 
l>a  I><inl(j<jn,  without  ever  stopping.  Jack  Madden,  who 
was  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  quit  of  his  hump,  never 
thought  of  waiting  until  the  fairies  had  done,  or  watching 
for  a  fit  opportunity  to  raise  the  tune  higher  again  than 
Lusmore  had ;  so  having  heard  them  sing  it  over  seven 
times  without  stopping,  out  lie  bawls,  never  minding  the 
time  or  the  humor  of  the  tune,  or  how  lie  could  bring  his 
words  in  properly,  nttf/tot  D<i  l)<ir<Jt<  n,  </f/</t/x  !><t  Ham, 
thinking  that  if  one  day  was  good,  two  were  better;  and 
that  if  Lusmore  had  one  new  suit  of  clothes  given  him, 
he  should  have  two. 

No  sooner  had  the  words  passed  his  lips  than  he  was 
taken  up  and  whisked  into  the  moat  with  prodigious 
force;  and  the  fairies  came  crowding  round  about  him 
with  great  anger,  screeching,  and  screaming,  and  roaring 
out,  "Who  spoiled  our  tune?  who  spoiled  our  tune?" 
and  one  stepped  up  to  him  above  all  the  rest,  and  said — 

"  Jack  Madden  !  Jack  Madden  ! 
Your  words  came  so  bad  in 
The  tune  we  felt  glad  in  ;<— 
This  castle  you're  had  in, 
That  your  life  we  may  sadden  ; 
Here's  two  humps  for  Jack  Madden  !  " 

And  twenty  of  the  strongest  fairies  brought  Lusmore's 
hump,  and  put  it  down  upon  poor  Jack's  back,  over  his 
own,  where  it  became  fixed  as  firmly  as  if  it  was  nailed 


50  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

on  with  twelve-penny  nails,  by  the  best  carpenter  that 
ever  drove  one.  Out  of  their  castle  they  then  kicked 
him;  and  in  the  morning,  when  Jack  Madden's  mother 
and  her  gossip  came  to  look  after  their  little  man,  they 
found  him  half  dead,  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  moat,  with 
the  other  hump  upon  his  back.  Well  to  be  sure?  how 
they  did  look  at  each  other !  but  they  were  afraid  to  say 
anything,  lest  a  hump  might  be  put  upon  their  own 
shoulders.  Home  they  brought  the  unlucky  Jack  Madden 
with  them,  as  downcast  in  their  hearts  and  their  looks  as 
ever  two  gossips  were ;  and  what  through  the  weight  of 
his  other  hump,  and  the  long  journey,  he  died  soon  after, 
leaving,  they  say,  his  heavy  curse  to  any  one  who  would 
go  to  listen  to  fairy  tunes  again. 


A  DONEGAL  FATRY. 

LETIT1A    MACLIXTOCK. 

AY,  it's  a  bad  thing  to  displeasure  the  gentry,  sure 
enough — they  can  be  unfriendly  if  they're  angered,  an' 
they  can  be  the  very  best  o'  glide  neighbors  if  they're 
treated  kindly. 

My  mother's  sister  was  her  lone  in  the  house  one  day, 
W7i'  a'  big  pot  o'  water  boiling  on  the  fire,  and  ane  o'  the 
wee  folk  fell  down  the  chimney,  and  slipped  wi'  his  leg 
in  the  hot  water. 

He  let  a  terrible  squeal  out  o'  him,  an'  in  a  minute  the 
house  was  full  o'  wree  crathurs  pulling  him  out  o'  the  pot, 
an'  carrying  him  across  the  floor. 

"  Did  she  scald  you  y  "  my  aunt  heard  them  saying  to 
him. 

"Na,  na,  it  was  myseP  scalded  my  ainseP, "  quoth  the 
wee  fellow. 

*'  A  weel,  a  weel,"  says  they.  "  If  it  was  your  ainseP 
scalded  yoursel',  we'll  say  nothing,  but  if  she  had  scalded 
you,  sve'd  ha'  made  her  pay." 


THE  BLACK   HORSE. 

OXTE  there  was  a  king  and  he  had  three  sons,  and  when 
the  king  died,  they  did  not  give  a  shade  of  anything  to 
the  youngest  son,  but  an  old  white  limping  garron. 

"  If  I  get  but  this,"  quoth  he,  "it  seems  that  I  had  best 
go  with  this  same." 

lie  was  going  with  it  right  before  him,  sometimes  walk 
ing,  sometimes  riding.  When  he  hud  been  riding  a  good 
while  he  thought  that  the  garron  would  need  a  while  of 
eating,  so  he  came  down  to  earth,  and  what  should  he  see 
coming  out  of  the  heart  of  the  western  airt  towards  him 
but  a  rider  riding  high,  well,  and  right  well. 

"All  hail,  my  lad,"  said  he. 

"Hail,  king's  sou,"  said  the  other. 

"  What's  your  news?"  said  the  king's  son. 

"I  have  got  that, "said  the  lad  who  came.  u  I  am  after 
breaking  my  heart  riding  this  ass  of  a  horse  ;  but  will  you 
give  me  the  limping  white  garron  for  him  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  prince  ;  "it  would  be  a  bad  business  for 
me." 

"  You  need  not  fear,"  said  the  man  that  came,  "  there 
is  no  saying  but  that  you  might  make  better  use  of  him 
than  I.  He  has  one  value,  there  is  no  single  place  that 
you  can  think  of  in  the  four  parts  of  the  wheel  of  the 
world  that  the  black  horse  will  not  take  you  there." 

So  the  king's  son  got  the  black  horse,  and  he  gave  the 
limping  white  garron. 

Where  should  he  thttlk  of  being  when  he  mounted  but 
in  the  Realm  Underwaves.  He  went,  and  before  sunrise 
on  the  morrow  he  was  there.  What  should  he  find  when 
he  got  there  but  the  son  of  the  King  Underwaves  holding 
a  Court,  and  the  people  of  the  realm  gathered  to  see  if 

57 


58  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

there  was  any  one  who  would  undertake  to  go  to  seek 
the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Greeks  to  be  the  prince's 
wife.  No  one  came  forward,  when  who  should  come  up 
but  the  rider  of  the  black  horse. 

"  You,  rider  of  the  black  horse,"  said  the  prince,  "  I  lay 
you  under  crosses  and  under  spells  to  have  the  daughter 
of  the  King  of  the  Greeks  here  before  the  sun  rises  to 
morrow." 

He  went  out  and  he  reached  the  black  horse  and  leaned 
his  elbow  on  his  mane,  and  he  heaved  a  sigh. 

"  Sigh  of  a  king's  son  under  spells  !  "  said  the  horse ; 
"  but  have  no  care ;  we  shall  do  the  thing  that  was  set 
before  you."  And  so  off  they  went. 

"  Now,"  said  the  horse,  "  when  we  get  near  the  great 
town  of  the  Greeks,  you  will  notice  that  the  four  feet  of  a 
horse  never  went  to  the  town  before.  The  king's  daugh 
ter  will  see  me  from  the  top  of  the  castle  looking  out  of  a 
window,  and  she  will  not  be  content  without  a  turn  of 
a  ride  upon  me.  Say  that  she  may  have  that,  but  the 
horse  will  suffer  no  man  but  you  to  ride  before  a  woman 
on  him." 

They  came  near  the  big  town,  and  he  fell  to  horseman 
ship  ;  and  the  princess  was  looking  out  of  the  windows, 
and  noticed  the  horse.  The  horsemanship  pleased  her, 
and  she  came  out  just  as  the  horse  had  come. 

"  Give  me  a  ride  on  the  horse,  said  she. 

"  You  shall  have  that,"  said  he,  "  but  the  horse  will  let 
no  man  ride  him  before  a  woman  but  me." 

"  I  have  a  horseman  of  my  own,  said  she. 

"  If  so,  set  him  in  front,"  said  he. 

Before  the  horseman  mounted  at  all,  when  he  tried  to 
get  up,  the  horse  lifted  his  legs  and  kicked  him  off. 

"  Come  then  yourself  and  mount  before  me,"  said  she  ; 
"  I  won't  leave  the  matter  so." 

He  mounted  the  horse  and  she  behind  him,  and  before 
she  glanced  from  her  she  was  nearer  sky  than  earth.  He 
was  in  Realm  Underwaves  with  her  before  sunrise. 

"  You  are  come,"  said  Prinoe  Underwaves. 


THE  BLACK  HORSE.  .  59 

"  I  am  come,"  said  he. 

"  There  you  are,  my  hero,"  said  the  prince.  "  You  are 
the  son  of  a  king,  but  I  am  a  son  of  success.  Anyhow, 
we  shall  have  no  delay  or  neglect  now,  but  a  wedding." 

"  Just  gently,"  said  the  princess  ;  "  your  wedding  is  not 
so  short  a  way  off  as  you  suppose.  Till  I  get  the  silver 


cup  that  my  grandmother  had  at  her  wedding,  and  that 
my  mother  had  as  well,  I  will  not  marry,  for  I  need  to 
have  it  at  my  own  wedding." 

"  You,  rider  of  the  black  horse,"  said  the  Prince  Under- 
waves,  "  I  set  you  under  spells  and  under  crosses  unless 
the  silver  cup  is  here  before  dawn  to-morrow." 

Out  he  went  and  reached  the  horse  and  leaned  his  elbow 
on  his  mane,  and  he  heaved  a  sigh. 

"  Sigh  of  a  king's  son  under  spells  !  "  said  the  horse ; 
"  mount  and  you  shall  get  the  silver  cup.  The  people  of 


GO  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  realm  are  gathered  about  the  king  to-night,  for  he  has 
missed  his  daughter,  and  when  you  get  to  the  palace  go 
in  and  leave  me  without ;  they  will  have  the  cup  there 
going  round  the  company.  Go  in  and  sit  in  their  midst. 
Say  nothing,  and  seem  to  be  as  one  of  the  people  of  the 
place.  But  when  the  cup  comes  round  to  you,  take  it 
under  your  oxter,  and  come  out  to  me  with  it,  and  we'll 

go." 

Away  they  went  and  they  got  to  Greece,  and  he  went 
in  to  the  palace  and  did  as  the  black  horse  bade.  He  took 
the  cup  and  came  out  and  mounted,  and  before  sunrise  he 
was  in  the  Realm  Underwaves. 

"  You  are  come,"  said  Prince  Underwaves. 

"  I  am  come,"  said  he. 

"  We  had  better  get  married  now,"  said  the  prince  to 
the  Greek  princess. 

"  Slowly  and  softly,"  said  she.  "  I  will  not  marry  till  I 
get  the  silver  ring  that  my  grandmother  and  my  mother 
wore  when  they  were  wedded." 

"  You,  rider  of  the  black  horse,"  said  the  Prince  Under 
waves,  "  do  that.  Let's  have  that  ring  here  to-morrow  at 
sunrise." 

The  lad  went  to  the  black  horse  and  put  his  elbow  on 
his  crest  and  told  him  how  it  was. 

"  There  never  was  a  matter  set  before  me  harder  than 
this  matter  which  has  now  been  set  in  front  of  me,"  said 
the  horse,  "  but  there  is  no  help  for  it  at  any  rate.  Mount 
me.  There  is  a  snow  mountain  and  an  ice  mountain  and 
a  mountain  of  fire  between  us  and  the  winning  of  that 
ring.  It  is  right  hard  for  us  to  pass  them." 

Thus  they  went  as  they  were,  and  about  a  mile  from 
the  snow  mountain  they  were  in  a  bad  case  witli  cold. 
As  they  came  near  it  he, struck  the  horse,  and  with  tlir 
bound  he  gave  the  black  horse  was  on  tin-  top  of  tin- 
snow  mountain  ;  at  the  next  bound  he  was  on  the  top  of 
the  ice  mountain ;  at  the  third  bound  he  went  through 
the  mountain  of  fire  When  he  had  passed  the  mountains 
hf  wat;  dragging  at  the  horse's  neck,  as  though  he  \vere 


The  black  horse  rose  in  the  middle  of  the  water  with  one  single  spike  in 
him,  and  the  ring  on  its  end.— Page  61.  Irish  Fairy  Talcs. 


THE  BLACK  HORSE.  f>L 

about  to  lose  himself.  He  went  on  before  him  down  to  a 
town  be- low. 

"  Go  down,"  said  the  black  horse,  "  to  a  smithy  ;  make 
an  iron  spike  for  every  bone  end  in  me." 

Down  he  went  as  the  horse  desired,  and  ho  got  the 
spikes  made,  and  back  he  came  with  them. 

"  Stick  them,  into  me,"  said  the  horse,  "  every  spike  of 
them  in  every  bone  end  that  I  have." 

That  lie  did  ;  he  stuck  the  spikes  into  the  horse. 

"  There  is  a  loch  here,"  said  the  horse,  "four  miles  long 
and  four  mik-s  wide,  and  when  I  go  out  into  it  the  loch 
will  take  tire  and  blaze.  If  you  see  the  Loch  of  Fire 
going  out  before  the  sun  rises,  expect  me,  and  if  not,  go 
your  way/' 

Out  went  the  black  horse  into  the  lake,  and  the  lake 
became  flame.  Long  was  he  stretched  about  the  lake, 
beating  his  palms  and  roaring.  Day  came,  and  the  loch 
did  not  go  out. 

But  ut  the  hour  when  the  the  sun  was  rising  out  of 
the  water  the  lake  went  out. 

And  the  black  horse  rose  in  the  middle  of  the  water 
with  one  single  spike  in  him,  and  the  ring  upon  its  end. 

He  came  on  shore,  and  down  he  fell  beside  the  loch. 

Then  down  went  the  rider.  He  got  the  ring,  and  he 
dragged  the  horse  down  to  the  side  of  a  hill.  He  fell  to 
sheltering  him  with  his  arms  about  him,  and  as  the  sun 
was  rising  he  got  better  and  better,  till  about  midday, 
when  he  rose  on  his  feet. 

"  Mount,"  said  the  horse,  "  and  let  us  begone." 

He  mounted  on  the  black  horse,  and  away  they  went. 

He  reached  the  mountains,  and  he  leaped  the  horse  at 
the  tire  mountain  and  was  on  the  top.  From  the  moun 
tain  of  fire  he  leaped  to  the  mountain  of  ice,  and  from  the 
mountain  of  ice  to  the  mountain  of  snow.  He  put  the 
mountains  past  him,  and  by  morning  he  was  in  realm 
under  the  waves. 

"  You  are  come,"  said  the  prince, 

« I  am,"  said  he. 


62  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"That's  true,"  said  Prince  Underwaves.  "A  king's 
son  are  you,  but  a  son  of  success  am  I.  We  shall 
have  no  more  mistakes  and  delays,  but  a  wedding  this 
time." 

"  Go  easy,"  said  the  princess  of  the  Greeks.  "  Your 
wedding  is  not  so  near  as  you  think  yet.  Till  you  make 
a  castle,  I  won't  marry  you.  Not  to  your  father's  castle 
nor  to  your  mother's  will  I  go  to  dwell ;  but  make  me  a 
castle  for  which  your  father's  castle  will  not  make  wash 
ing  water." 

"  Yrou,  rider  of  the  black  horse,  make  that,"  said  Prince 
TJnderwaves,  "  before  the  morrow's  sun  rises." 

The  lad  went  out  to  the  horse  and  leaned  his  elbow  on 
his  neck  and  sighed,  thinking  that  this  castle  never  could 
be  made  forever. 

"  There  never  came  a  turn  in  my  road  yet  that  is  easier 
for  me  to  pass  than  this,"  said  the  black  horse. 

Glance  that  the  lad  give  from  him  he  saw  all  that  there 
were,  and  ever  so  many  wrights  and  stone  masons  at  work, 
and  the  castle  was  ready  before  the  sun  rose. 

lie  shouted  at  the  Prince  Under  waves,  and  he  saw  the 
castle.  He  tried  to  pluck  out  his  eye,  thinking  that  it  was 
a  false  sight. 

"  Son  of  King  Under  waves,"  said  the  rider  of  the  black 
horse,  "  don't  think  that  you  have  a  false  sight;  this  is  a 
true  sight." 

"  That's  true,"  said  the  prince.  "  You  are  a  son  of  suc 
cess,  but  I  am  a  son  of  success  too.  There  will  be  no 
more  mistakes  and  delays,  but  a  wedding  now." 

"  No,"  said  she.  "  The  time  is  come.  Should  we  not 
go  to  look  at  the  castle?  There's  time  enough  to  get 
married  before  the  night  comes." 

They  went  to  the  castle  and  the  castle  was  without  a 
«  but  "— 

"  I  see  one,"  said  the  prince.  "  One  want  at  least  to  be 
made  good.  A  well  to  be  made  inside,  so  that  water  may 
not  be  far  to  fetch  when  there  is  a  feast  or  a  wedding  in 
the  castle." 


THE  BLACK  HORSE.  63 

"  That  won't  be  long  undone,"  said  the  rider  of  the  black 
horse. 

The  well  was  made,  and  it  was  seven  fathoms  deep  and 
two  or  three  fathoms  Avicle,  and  they  looked  at  the  well  on 
the  way  to  the  wedding. 

"  It  is  very  well  made,"  said  she,  "  but  for  one  little 
fault  yonder." 

"Where  is  it?"  said  Prince  Underwaves. 

"  There,"  said  she. 

lie  bent  him  down  to  look.  She  came  out,  and  she  put 
her  two  hands  at  his  back,  and  cast  him  in. 

"  Be  thou  there,"  said  she.  "  If  I  go  to  be  married,  thou 
art  not  the  man ;  but  the  man  who  did  each  exploit  that 
has  been  done,  and,  if  he  chooses,  him  will  I  have." 

Away  she  went  with  the  rider  of  the  little  black  horse 
to  the  wedding. 

And  at  the  end  of  three  years  after  that  so  it  was  that 
lie  first  remembered  the  black  horse  or  where  he  left 
him. 

lie  got  up  and  went  out,  and  he  was  very  sorry  for  his 
neglect  of  the  black  horse.  lie  found  him  just  where  he 
left  him. 

"  Good  luck  to  you,  gentleman,"  said  the  horse.  "You 
seem  as  if  you  had  got  something  that  you  like  better 
than  me." 

"I  have  not  got  that,  and  I  won't ;  but  it  came  over 
me  to  forget  you,"  said  he. 

"  I  don't  mind,"  said  the  horse,  "  it  will  make  no  differ 
ence.  Raise  your  sword  and  smite  off  my  head." 

"  Fortune  will  now  allow  that  I  should  do  that,"  said  he. 

"  Do  it  instantly,  or  I  will  do  it  to  you,"  said  the  horse. 

So  the  lad  drew  his  sword  and  smote  off  the  horse's 
head  ;  then  he  lifted  his  two  palms  and  uttered  a  doleful 
cry. 

What  should  he  hear  behind  him  but  "  All  hail,  my 
brother-in-law." 

He  looked  behind  him,  and  there  was  the  finest  man 
he  ever  set  eyes  upon. 


6-t  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  What  set  you  weeping  for  the  black  horse  ?  "  said  he. 

"  This,"  said  the  lad,  "  that  there  never  was  born  of 
man  or  beast  a  creature  in  this  world  that  I  was  fonder  of." 

"  Would  you  take  me  for  him  ?  "  said  the  stranger. 

"  If  I  could  think  you  the  horse,  I  would ;  but  if  not,  I 
would  rather  the  horse,"  said  the  rider. 

"  I  am  the  black  horse,"  said  the  lad,  "  and  if  I  were 
not,  how  should  you  have  all  these  things  that  you  went 
to  seek  in  my  father's  house.  Since  I  went  under  spells, 
many  a  man  have  I  ran  at  before  you  met  me.  They  had 
but  one  word  amongst  them :  they  could  not  keep  me,  nor 
manage  me,  and  they  never  kept  me  a  couple  of  days. 
But  when  I  fell  in  with  you,  you  kept  me  till  the  time 
ran  out  that  was  to  come  from  the  spells.  And  now  you 
shall  go  home  with  me,  and  we  will  make  a  wedding  in 
my  father's  house." 


THE  TROOPING  FAIRIES. 


CHANGELINGS. 


SOMETIMES  the  fairies  fancy  mortals,  and  carry  them 
away  into  their  own  country,  leaving  instead  some  sickly 
fairy  child,  or  a  log  of  wood  so  bewitched  that  it  seems 
to  be  a  mortal  pining  away,  and  dying,  and  being  buried. 
Most  commonly  they  steal  children.  Jf  yon  "  over  look 
a  child,"  that  is  look  on  it  with  envy,  the  fairies  have  it 
in  their  power.  Many  things  can  be  done  to  find  out  in 
a  child  a  changeling,  but  there  is  one  infallible  thing- 
lay  it  on  the  fire  with  this  formula,  "  Burn,  burn,  burn— 
if  of  the  devil,  burn;  but  if  of  (iod  and  the  saints,  be  safe 
from  harm"  (given  by  Lady  Wilde).  Then  if  it  be  a 
changeling  it  will  rush  up  the  chimney  with  a  cry,  for, 
according  to  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  "  fire  is  the  greatest  of 
enemies  to  every  sort  of  phantom,  in  so  much  that  those 
who  have  seen  apparitions  fall  into  a  swoon  as  soon  as 
they  are  sensible  of  the  brightness  of  fire." 

Sometimes  the  creature  is  got  rid  of  in  a  more  gentle 
way.  It  is  on  record  that  once  when  a  mother  was  lean 
ing  over  a  wizened  changeling  the  latch  lifted  and  a  fairy 
came  in,  carrying  home  again  the  wholesome  stolen  baby. 
"  It  was  the  others,"  she  said,  "  who  stole  it."  As  for 
her,  she  wanted  her  own  child. 

Those  who  are  carried  away  are  happy,  according  to 
some  accounts,  having  plenty  of  good  living  and  music 
and  mirth.  Others  say,  however,  that  they  are  continually 
longing  for  their  earthly  friends.  Lady  Wilde  gives  a 
gloomy  tradition  that  there  a-re  two  kinds  of  fairies — one 
kind-  Jneiry-nn4-~g-efttler  .ihg  .other  evily  and_ sacrificing 
every  year.  aJife_lo  .Satan, rfor.  which  purpose  they  steal 
5  65 


f>6  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

mortals.  No  other  Irish  writer  gives  this  tradition — if 
such  fairies  there  be,  they  must  be  among  the  solitary 
spirits — Pookas,  Fir  Darrigs,  and  the  like. 


'  THE  BREWERY  OF  EGG-SHELLS. 

T.    CROFTOX  CROKER. 

MRS.  SULLIVAN  fancied  that  her  youngest  child  had 
been  exchanged  by  "  fairies  theft,"  and  certainly  appear 
ances  warranted  such  a  conclusion  :  for  in  one  night  her 
healthy,  blue-eyed  boy  had  become  shriveled  up  into 
almost  nothing,  and  never  ceased  squalling  and  crying. 
This  naturally  made  poor  Mrs.  Sullivan  very  unhappy ; 
and  all  the  neighbors,  by  way  of  comforting  her,  said 
that  her  own  child  was,  beyond  any  kind  of  doubt,  with 
the  good  people,  and  that  one  of  themselves  was  put  in 
his  place. 

Mrs.  Sullivan  of -course  could  not  disbelieve  what  every 

one  told  her,  but  she  did  not  wish  to  hurt  the  thing ;  for 

Although  its  face  was  so  withered,  and  its  body  wasted 

frway  to  a  mere  skeleton,  it  had  still  a  strong  resemblance 

to  her  own  boy.     She,  therefore,  could  not  find  it  in  her 

heart  to  roast  it  alive  on  the  griddle,  or  to  burn  its  nose 

I  off  with  the  red-hot  tongs,  or  to  throw  it  out  in  the  snow 

ion  the  road-side,  notwithstanding  these,  and  several  like 

proceedings,  were  strongly  recommended  to  her  for  the 

recovery  of  her  child. 

One  day  who  should  Mrs.  Sullivan  meet  but  a  cunning 
woman,  well  known  about  the  country  by  the  name  of 
Ellen  Leah  (or  Gary  Ellen).  She  had  the  gift,  however 
she  got  it,  of  telling  where  the  dead  were,  and  what  was 
good  for  the  rest  of  their  souls ;  and  could  charm  away 
warts  and  wens,  and  do  a  great  many  wonderful  things 
of  the  same  nature. 

"  You're  in  grief  this  morning,  Mrs.  Sullivan,"  were  the 
first  words  of  Ellen  Leah  to  her. 


THE  BREWERY  OF  EGG-SHELLS.  07 

"  You  may  say  that,  Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Sullivan,  "  and 
good  cause  I  have  to  be  in  grief,  for  there  was  my  own 
line  child  whipped  off  from  me  out  of  his  cradle,  without 
as  much  as  'by  your  leave '  or  '  ask  your  pardon,'  and  an 
ugly  dony  bit  of  a  shriveled-up  fairy  put  in  his  place ; 
no  wonder,  then,  that  you  see  me  in  grief,  Ellen." 

"  Small  blame  to  you,  Mrs.  Sullivan,"  said  Ellen  Leah, 
"  but  are  you  sure  'tis  a  fairy  ?  " 

"  Sure  !  "  echoed  Mrs.  Sullivan,  "  sure  enough  I  am  to 
my  sorrow,  and  can  I  doubt  my  own  two  eyes  ?  Every 
mother's  soul  must  feel  for  me  ! " 

u  Will  you  take  an  old  woman's  advice?"  said  Ellen 
Leah,  fixing  her  wild  and  mysterious  gaze  upon  the  un 
happy  mother  ;  and,  after  a  pause,  she  added,  "but  may 
be  you'll  call  it  foolish?" 

"  Can  you  get  me  bark  my  child,  my  own  child,  Ellen  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Sullivan  with  great  energy. 

"  If  you  do  as  I  bid  yon,"  returned  Ellen  Leah,  "  you'll 
know."  Mrs.  Sullivan  was  silent  in  expectation,  and 
Ellen  continued,  "  Put  down  the  big  pot,  full  of  water,  on 
the  tire,  and  make  it  boil  like  mad;  then  get  a  dozen  new- 
laid  eggs,  break  them,  and  keep  the  shells,  but  throw 
away  the  rest ;  when  that  is  done,  put  the  shells  in  the 
pot  of  boiling  water,  and  you  will  soon  know  whether  it 
is  your  own  boy  or  a  fairy.  If  you  find  that  it  is  a  fairy 
in  the  cradle,  take  the  red-hot  poker  and  cram  it  down 
his  ugly  throat,  and  you  will  not  have  much  trouble  with 
him  after  that,  I  promise  you." 

Home  went  Mrs.  Sullivan,  and  did  as  Ellen  Leah  de 
sired.  She  put  the  pot  on  the  fire,  and  plenty  of  turf 
under  it,  and  set  the  water  boiling  at  such  a  rate,  that  if 
ever  water  was  red-hot,  it  surely  was. 

The  child  was  lying,  for  a  wonder,  quite  easy  and  quiet 
in  the  cradle,  every  now  and  then  cocking  his  eye,  that 
would  twinkle  as  keen  as  a  star  in  a  frosty  night,  over  at 
the  great  fire,  and  the  big  pot  upon  it ;  and  he  looked  on 
with  great  attention  at  Mrs.  Sullivan  breaking  the  eggs 
and  putting  down  the  egg-shells  to  boil.  At  last  he 


68  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

asked,  with  the  voice  of  a  very  old  man,  "  What  are  you 
doing,  mammy  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sullivan's  heart,  as  she  said  herself,  was  up  in  her 
mouth  ready  to  choke  her,  at  hearing  the  child  speak, 
but  she  contrived  to  put  the  poker  in  the  fire,  and  to  an 
swer,  without  making  any  wonder  at  the  words,  "  I'm 
brewing,  a  vick"  (my  son). 

"  Aud  what  are  you  brewing,  mammy  ?  "  said  the  little 
imp,  whose  supernatural  gift  of  speech  now  proved  be 
yond  question  that  he  was  a  fairy  substitute. 

"  I  wish  the  poker  was  red,"  thought  Mrs.  Sullivan ; 
but  it  was  a  large  one,  and  took  a  long  time  heating ;  so 
she  determined  to  keep  him  in  talk  until  the  poker  was 
in  a  proper  state  to  thrust  down  his  throat,  and  there 
fore  repeated  the  question. 

"  Is  it  what  I'm  brewing,  a  vick"  said  she,  "  you  want 
to  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mammy  :  what  are  you  brewing  ?  "  returned  the 
fairy. 

"Egg-shells,  a  vick"  said  Mrs.  Sullivan. 

"  Oh !  "  shrieked  the  imp,  starting  up  in  the  cradle, 
and  clapping  his  hands  together,  "  I'm  fifteen  hundred 
years  in  the  world,  and  I  never  saw  a  brewery  of  egg 
shells  before  !  "  The  poker  was  by  this  time  quite  red, 
and  Mrs.  Sullivan,  seizing  it,  ran  furiously  towards  the 
cradle ;  but  somehow  or  other  her  foot  slipped,  and  she 
fell  on  the  floor,  and  the  poker  flew  out  of  her  hand  to 
the  other  end  of  the  house.  However,  she  got  up  without 
much  loss  of  time  and  went  to  the  cradle,  intending  to 
pitch  the  wicked  thing  that  was  in  it  into  the  pot  of  boil 
ing  water,  when  there  she  saw  her  own  child  in  a  sweet 
sleep,  one  of  his  soft  round  arms  rested  upon  the  pillow — 
his  features  were  as  placid  as  if  their  repose  had  never 
been  disturbed,  save  the  rosy  mouth,  which  moved  with 
gentle  and  regular  breathing. 


THE  FAIRY  NURSE. 
THE  FAIRY  XTRSE. 

BY    KDWAIM)     WALSH. 

SWEET  babe  !  a  golden  cradle  holds  thee, 
And  soft  the  snow-white  fleece  enfolds  thee  ; 
In  airy  bower  I'll  watch  thy  sleeping, 
Where  branchy  trees  to  the  breeze  are  sweeping. 
Shuheen,  sho,  Inlo!  lo  ! 

When  mothers  languish  broken-hearted, 
When  young  wives  are  from  husbands  parted, 
Ah!  little  think  the  keeners  lonely, 
They  wee})  some  time-worn  fairy  only. 
Shuheen  si  in,  luln  In  ! 

Within  our  magic  halls  of  brightness, 
Trips  many  a  foot  of  snowy  whiteness  ; 
Stolen  maidens,  queens  of  fairy— 
And  kings  and  chiefs  a  sluagh-shee  airy. 
Shuheen  sho,  lulo  In  ! 

Rest  thee,  babe  !  I  love  thee  dearly, 
And  as  thy  mortal  mother  nearly  ; 
Ours  is  the  swiftest  steed  and  proudest, 
That  moves  where  the  tramp  of  the  host  is  loudest. 
Shuheen  sho,  lulo  lo  ! 

Rest  thee,  babe  !  for  soon  thy  slumbers 
Shall  flee  at  the  magic's  koelshie's  *  numbers ; 
In  airy  bower  I'll  watch  thy  sleeping, 
Where  branchy  trees  to  the  breeze  are  sweeping. 
Shuheen  sho,  lulo,  lo! 

*  Cebl-sidhe—i.  e.,  fairy  music. 


JAMIE  FREEL  AND  THE  YOUNG  LADY. 
A  Donegal  1 ale. 

MISS  LETITIA  MACLHSTTOCK. 

Dowx  in  Fannet,  in  times  gone  by,  lived  Jamie  Freel 
and  his  mother.  Jamie  was  the  widow's  sole  support ; 
his  strong  arm  worked  for  her  untiringly,  and  as  each 
Saturday  night  came  round,  he  poured  his  wages  into  her 
lap,  thanking  her  dutifully  for  the  halfpence  which  she  re 
turned  him  for  tobacco. 

He  was  extolled  by  his  neighbors  as  the  best  son  ever 
known  or  heard  of.  But  he  had  neighbors,  of  whose 
opinion  he  was  ignorant — neighbors  who  lived  pretty 
close  to  him,  whom  he  had  never  seen,  who  are,  indeed, 
rarely  seen  by  mortals,  except  on  May  eves  and  Hal- 
loweens. 

An  old  ruined  castle,  about  a  charter  of  a  mile  from  his 
cabin,  was  said  to  be  the  abode  of  the  "  wee  folk."  Every 
Halloween  were  the  ancient  windows  lighted  up,  and 
passers-by  saw  little  figures  flitting  to  and  fro  inside  the 
building,  while  they  heard  the  music  of  pipes  and  flutes. 

It  was  well  known  that  fairy  revels  took  place  ;  but  no- 
'body  had  the  courage  to  intrude  on  them. 

Jamie  had  often  watched  the  little  figures  from  a  dis 
tance,  and  listened  to  the  charming  music,  wondering 
what  the  inside  of  the  castle  was  like ;  but  one  Hal 
loween  he  got  up  and  took  his  cap,  saying  to  his  mother, 
"  I'm  awa'  to  the  castle  to  seek  my  fortune." 

"  What !  "  cried  she,  "  would  you  venture  there  ?  you 
that's  the  poor  widow's  one  son  !     Dinna  be  sae  venture 
some  an'  foolitch,  Jamie !     They'll  kill  you,  an'  then  what'll 
come  o'  me  ?  " 
70 


JAMIE  FREEL  AND  THE  YOUNG  LADY.     71 

"  Never  fear,  mother ;  nae  harm  'ill  happen  rne,  but  I 
maun  gae." 

He  set  out,  and  as  he  crossed  the  potato-field,  came  in 
sight  of  the  castle,  whose  windows  were  ablaze  with  light, 
that  seemed  to  turn  the  russet  leaves,  still  clinging  to  the 
crab  tree  branches,  into  gold. 

Halting  in  the  grove  at  one  side  of  the  ruin,  he  listened 
to  the  elfin  revelry,  and  the  laughter  and  singing  made 
him  ail  the  more  determined  to  proceed. 

Numbers  of  little  people,  the  largest  about  the  size  of  a 
child  of  five  years  old,  were  dancing  to  the  music  of  fiutes 
and  fiddles,  while  others  drank  and  feasted. 

"  \Velcome,  Jamie  Freel !  welcome,  welcome,  Jamie !  " 
cried  the  company,  perceiving  their  visitor.  The  word 
"  \Velcome"  was  caught  up  and  repeated  by  every  voice 
in  the  castle. 

Time  flew,  and  Jamie  was  enjoying  himself  very  much, 
when  his  hosts  said,  "We're  going  to  ride  to  Dublin  to 
night  to  steal  a  young  lady.  Will  you  come  too,  Jamie 
Freel?" 

"  Ay,  that  will  I !  "  cried  the  rash  youth,  thirsting  for 
adventure. 

A  troop  of  horses  stood  at  the  door.  Jamie  mounted, 
and  his  steed  rose  with  him  into  the  air.  He  was  presently 
flying  over  his  mother's  cottage,  surrounded  by  the  elfin 
troop,  and  on  and  on  they  went,  over  bold  mountains,  over 
little  hills,  over  the  deep  Lough  Swilley,  over  towns  and 
cottages,  when  people  were  burning  nuts,  and  eating 
apples,  and  keeping  merry  Halloween.  It  seemed  to  Jamie 
that  they  flew  all  round  Ireland  before  they  got  to  Dub 
lin. 

"  This  is  Derry,"  said  the  fairies,  flying  over  the  cathe 
dral  spire ;  and  what  was  said  by  one  voice  was  repeated 
by  all  the  rest,  till  fifty  little  voices  were  crying  out, 
"  Derry  !  Derry  !  Derry  !  " 

In  like  manner  was  Jamie  informed  as  they  passed  over 
each  town  on  the  rout,  and  at  length  he  heard  the  silvery 
voices  cry,  "  Dublin !  Dublin !  " 


?2  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

It  was  no  mean  dwelling  that  was  to  be  honored  by 
the  fairy  visit,  but  one  of  the  finest  houses  in  Stephen's 
Green. 

The  troop  dismounted  near  a  window,  and  Jamie  saw  a 
beautiful  face,  on  a  pillow  in  a  splendid  bed.  He  saw 
the  young  lady  lifted  and  carried  away,  while  the  stick 
which  was  dropped  in  her  place  on  the  bed  took  her 
exact  form. 

The  lady  was  placed  before  one  rider  and  carried  a  short 
way,  then  given  another,  and  the  names  of  the  towns  were 
cried  out  as  before. 

They  were  approaching  home.  Jamie  heard  "  Rath- 
mullan,"  "  Milford,"  "  Tamney,"  and  then  he  knew  they 
were  near  his  own  house. 

"  You've  all  had  your  turn  at  carrying  the  young  lady," 
said  he.  "  Why  wouldn't  I  get  her  for  a  wee  piece  ?  " 

"  Ay,  Jamie,"  replied  they,  pleasantly,  "  you  may  take 
your  turn  at  carrying  her,  to  be  sure." 

Holding  his  prize  very  tightly,  he  dropped  down  near 
his  mother's  door. 

"  Jamie  Freel,  Jamie  Freel !  is  that  the  way  you  treat 
us  ? "  cried  they,  and  they  too  dropped  down  near  the 
door. 

Jamie  held  fast,  though  he  knew  not  what  he  was  hold 
ing,  for  the  little  folk  turned  the  lady  into  all  sorts  of 
strange  shapes.  At  one  moment  she  was  a  black  dog, 
barking  and  trying  to  bite ;  at  another,  a  glowing  bar  of 
iron,  which  yet  had  no  heat ;  then,  again,  a  sack  of  wool. 

But  still  Jamie  held  her,  and  the  baffled  elves  were 
turning  away,  when  a  tiny  woman,  the  smallest  of  the 
party,  exclaimed,  "  Jamie  Freel  has  her  awa'  f rae  us,  but 
he  sail  hae  nae  gude  o'  her,  for  I'll  mak'  her  deaf  and 
dumb,"  and  she  threw  something  over  the  young  girl. 

While  they  rode  off  disappointed,  Jamie  lifted  the  latch 
and  went  in. 

"  Jamie,  man  !  "  cried  his  mother,  "  you've  been  awa'  all 
night ;  what  have  they  done  on  you  ?  " 

"  Kaething  bad,  mother ;  I   ha'  the  very  best  of  gude 


JAMIE  FREEL  AND  THE  YOUNG  LADY.     73 

iuck.  Here's  a  beautiful  young  lady  I  ha'  brought  you 
lor  company.1' 

"  Bless  us  an'  save  us  !  "  exclaimed  the  mother,  and  for 
some  minutes  she  was  so  astonished  that  she  could  not 
!  hink  of  anything  else  to  say. 

Jamie  told  his  story  of  the  night's  adventure,  ending 
by  saying,  "  Surely  you  wouldna  have  allowed  me  to  let 
li.-r  gang  with  them  to  be  lost  forever?" 

"  But  a  lady,  Jamie  !  How  can  a  lady  eat  we'er  poor 
iiet,  and  live  in  weVr  poor  way  V  I  ax  you  that,  you 
foolitch  fellow  ?  " 

"  Weel,  mother,  sure  it's  better  for  her  to  be  here  nor 
over  yonder,"  and  he  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the 
castle. 

Meanwhile,  the  deaf  and  dumb  girl  shivered  in  her  light 
clothing,  stepping  close  to  the  humble  turf  fire. 

"  Poor  crathur,  she's  qua  re  and  handsome  !  Nae  wonder 
they  set  their  hearts  on  her,"  said  the  old  woman,  gazing 
at  her  guest  with  pity  and  admiration.  "  AYe  maun  dress 
her  first ;  but  what,  in  the  name  o' fortune,  hae  I  fit  for 
the  likes  o"  her  to  wear  ?  " 

She  went  to  her  press  in  "the  room,"  and  took  out  her 
Sunday  gown  of  brown  drugget ;  she  then  opened  a  drawer, 
and  drew  forth  a  pair  of  white  stockings,  a  long  snowy 
garment  of  hue  linen,  and  a  cap,  her  "  dead  dress,"  as  she 
called  it. 

These  articles  of  attire  had  long  been  ready  for  a  certain 
triste  ceremony,  in  which  slie  would  some  day  fill  the 
chief  part,  and  only  saw  the  light  occasionally,  when  they 
w^re  hung  out  to  air  ;  but  she  was  willing  to  give  even 
these  to  the  fair  trembling  visitor,  who  was  turning  in 
dumb  sorrow  and  wonder  from  her  to  Jamie,  and  from 
Jamie  back  to  her. 

The  poor  girl  suffered  herself  to  be  dressed,  and  then 
sat  down  on  a  "  creepie  "  in  the  chimney  corner,  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  What'll  we  do  to  keep  up  a  lady  like  thou  ?  "  cried  the 
old  woman. 


7-t  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  I'll  work  for  you  both,  mother,"  replied  the  son. 

"  An'  how  could  a  lady  live  on  we'er  poor  diet  ?  "  she 
repeated. 

"  I'll  work  for  her,"  was  all  Jamie's  answer. 

lie  kept  his  word.  The  young  lady  was  very  sad  for  a 
long  time,  and  tears  stole  down  her  cheeks  many  an  even 
ing  while  the  old  woman  spun  by  the  fire,  and  Jamie  made 
salmon  nets,  an  accomplishment  lately  acquired  by  him, 
in  hopes  of  adding  to  the  comfort  of  his  guest. 

But  she  was  always  gentle,  and  tried  to  smile  when  she 
perceived  them  looking  at  her;  and  by  degrees  she 
adapted  herself  to  their  ways  and  mode  of  life.  It  was  not 
very  long  before  she  began  to  feed  the  pig,  mash  potatoes 
and  meal  for  the  fowls,  and  knit  blue  worsted  socks. 

So  a  year  passed,  and  Halloween  came  round  again. 
"  Mother,"  said  Jamie,  taking  down  his  cap,  "  I'm  off  to 
the  ould  castle  to  seek  my  fortune." 

"  Are  you  mad,  Jamie  ?  "  cried  his  mother,  in  terror ; 
"  sure  they'll  kill  you  this  time  for  what  you  done  on 
them  last  year." 

Jamie  made  light  of  her  fears  and  went  his  way. 

As  he  reached  the  crab-tree  grove,  he  saw  bright  lights 
in  the  castle  windows  as  before,  and  heard  loud  talking. 
Creeping  under  the  window,  he  heard  the  wee  folk  say, 
"  That  was  a  poor  trick  Jamie  Freel  played  us  this  night 
last  year,  when  he  stole  the  nice  young  lady  from  us." 

"  Ay,"  said  the  tiny  woman,  "an'  I  punished  him  for  it, 
for  there  she  sits,  a  dumb  image  by  his  hearth ;  but  he 
does  na'  know  that  three  drops  out  o'  this  glass  I  hold  in 
my  hand  wad  gie  her  her  hearing  and  her  speeches  back 
again." 

Jamie's  heart  beat  fast  as  he  entered  the  hall.  Again 
he  was  greeted  by  a  chorus  of  welcomes  from  the  com 
pany — "  Here  comes  Jamie  Freel !  welcome,  welcome, 
Jamie  !  " 

As  soon  as  the  tumult  subsided,  the  little  woman  said, 
"  You  be  to  drink  our  health,  Jamie,  out  o'  this  glass  in 
iny  hand." 


JAMIE  FREEL  AND  THE  YOUNG  LADY.     75 

Jamie  snatched  the  glass  from  her  and  darted  to  the 
door.  He  never  knew  how  he  reached  his  cabin,  but  lie 
arrived  there  breathless,  and  sank  on  a  stove  by  the  fire. 

"You're  kilt  surely  this  time,  my  poor  boy,"  said  his 
mother. 

"  Xo,  indeed,  better  hick  than  ever  this  time!"  and  he 
gave  the  lady  three  drops  of  the  liquid  that  still  remained 
at  the  bottom  of  the  glass,  notwithstanding  his  mad  race 
over  the  potato-field. 

The  lady  began  to  speak,  and  her  first  words  were 
words  of  thanks  to  Jamie. 

The  three  inmates  of  the  cabin  had  so  much  to  say  to 
one  another,  that  long  after  cock-crow,  when  the  fairy 
music  had  quite  ceased,  they  were  talking  round  the  tire. 

"Jamie,"  said  the  lady,  "  be  pleased  to  get  me  paper 
and  pen  and  ink,  that  I  may  write  to  my  father,  and  tell 
him  what  has  become  of  me." 

She  wrote,  but  weeks  passed,  and  she  received  no  an 
swer.  Again  and  again  she  wrote,  and  still  no  answer. 

At  length  she  said,  "You  must  come  with  me  to  Dub 
lin,  Jamie,  to  find  my  father." 

"I  ha,"  no  money  to  hire  a  car  for  you,"  he  replied,  "aif 
IIONV  can  you  travel  to  Dublin  on  your  foot?" 

.But  she  implored  him  so  much  that  he  consented  to  set 
out  with  her,  and  walk  all  the  way  from  Fannet  to  Dub 
lin.  It  was  not  as  easy  as  the  fairy  journey  ;  but  at  last 
they  rang  the  bell  at  the  door  of  the  house  in  Stephen's 
Green. 

"Tell  my  father  that  his  daughter  is  here,"  said  she  to 
the  servant  wrho  opened  the  door. 

"The  gentleman  that  lives  here  has  no  daughter,  my 
girl.  He  had  one,  but  she  died  better  nor  a  year  ago." 

"  Do  you  not  know  me,  Sullivan  ?  " 

"  Xo,  poor  girl,  I  do  not." 

"  Let  me  see  the  gentleman.     I  only  ask  to  see  him." 

"  Well,  that's  not  much  to  ax ;  we'll  see  what  can  be 
done." 

In  a,  few  moments  the  lady's  father  came  to  the  door. 


7<i  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"Dear  father,"  said  she,  "don't  you  know  me?" 

"  How  dare  you  call  me  your  father?"  cried  the  old 
gentleman,  angrily.  "  You  are  an  impostor.  I  have  no 
daughter." 

"  Look  in  my  face,  father,  and  surely  you'll  remember 
me." 

"  My  daughter  is  dead  and  buried.  She  died  a  long, 
long  time  ago."  The  old  gentleman's  voice  changed  from 
anger  to  sorrow.  "  You  can  go,"  he  concluded. 

"  Stop,  dear  father,  till  you  look  at  this  ring  on  my 
finger.  Look  at  your  name  and  mine  engraved  on  it." 

"  It  certainly  is  my  daughter's  ring ;  but  I  do  not  know 
how  you  came  by  it.  I  fear  in  no  honest  way." 

"  Call  my  mother,  she  will  be  sure  to  know  me,"  said 
the  poor  girl,  who,  by  this  time,  was  crying  bitterly. 

"My  poor  wife  is  beginning  to  forget  her  sorrow. 
She  seldom  speaks  of  her  daughter  now.  Why  should  I 
renew  her  grief  by  reminding  her  of  her  loss  ?  " 

But  the  young  lady  persevered,  till  at  last  the  mother 
\vas  sent  for. 

"  Mother,"  she  began,  when  the  old  lady  came  to  the 
door,  "don't  yon  know  your  daughter?" 

"  I  have  no  daughter ;  my  daughter  died  and  was  buried 
a  long,  long  time  ago. 

"  Only  look  in  my  face,  and  surely  you'll  know  me." 

The  old  lady  shook  her  head. 

"  You  have  all  forgotten  me  ;  but  look  at  this  mole  on 
my  neck.  Surely,  mother,  you  know  me  now  ?  " 

"  Yfes,  yes,"  said  the  mother,  "  my  Gracie  had  a  mole 
on  her  neck  like  that ;  but  then  I  saw  her  in  her  coffin, 
and  saw  the  lid  shut  down  upon  her." 

It  became  Jamie's  turn  to  speak,  and  he  gave  the  his 
tory  of  the  fairy  journey,  of  the  theft  of  the  young  lady, 
of  the  figure  he  had  seen  laid  in  its  place,  of  her  life  with 
his  mother  in  Fannet,  of  last  Halloween,  and  of  the  three 
drops  that  had  released  her  from  her  enchantment. 

She  took  up  the  story  when  he  paused,  and  told  how 
kind  the  mother  and  son  had  been  to  her. 


THE  STOLEN  CHILD.  77 

The  parents  could  not  make  enough  of  Jamie.  They 
treated  him  with  every  distinction,  and  when  he  expressed 
his  Avish  to  return  to  Fannet,  said  they  did  not  know 
what  to  do  to  show  their  gratitude. 

But  an  awkward  complication  arose.  The  daughter 
would  not  let  him  go  without  her.  "If  Jamie  goes,  I'll 
gn  too,"  she  said.  "  He  saved  me  from  the  fairies,  and  has 
worked  for  me  ever  since.  If  it  had  not  been  for  him, 
dear  father  and  mother,  you  would  never  have  seen  me 
again.  If  lie  goes,  I "11  go  too."1 

This  being  her  resolution,  the  old  gentleman  said  that 
Jamie  should  become  his  son-in-law.  The  mother  was 
brought  from  Fannet  in  a  coach  and  four,  and  there  was  a 
splendid  wedding. 

They  all  lived  together  in  the  grand  Dublin  bouse,  and 
Jamie  was  heir  to  untold  wealth  at  his  father-in-law's 
death. 


THE  STOLEN  CHILL).* 


WIIKIJK  dips  the  rocky  highland 

Of  Sleuth  Wood  in  the  lake, 
There  lies  a  leafy  island 

Where  flapping  herons  wake 
The  drowsy  water- rats. 
There  we've  hid  our  fairy  vats 
Full  of  berries, 

And  of  reddest  stolen  cherries. 
Come  away,  O,  human  child  ! 
To  the  woods  and  waters  wild, 

*  The  places  mentioned  are  round  about  Sligo.  Further  Rosses 
is  a  very  noted  fairy  locality.  There  is  here  a,  little  point  of  rocks 
where,  if  any  one  falls  asleep,  there  is  danger  of  their  waking 
silly,  the  fairies-  haYir>g  carried  off  their  souls. 


78  IRISH  F\IRY  TALES. 

With  a  fairy  hand  in  hand, 
For  the  world's  more  full  of  weeping  than 
you  can  understand. 

Where  the  wave  of  moonlight  glosses 
The  dim  gray  sands  with  light, 

Far  off  by  furthest  Rosses 
We  foot  it  all  the  night, 

Weaving  olden  dances, 

Mingling  hands,  and  mingling  glances, 
Till  the  moon  has  taken  flight ; 

To  and  fro  we  leap, 

And  chase  the  frothy  bubbles, 
While  the  world  is  full  of  troubles. 

And  is  anxious  in  its  sleep. 

Come  away  !  O,  human  child  ! 

To  the  woods  and  waters  wild, 

With  a  fairy  hand  in  hand, 

For  the  world's  more  full  of  weeping  than 
you  can  understand. 

Where  the  wandering  water  gushes 

From  the  hills  above  Glen- Car, 
In  pools  among  the  rushes, 

That  scarce  could  bathe  a  star, 
We  seek  for  slumbering  trout, 

And  whispering  in  their  ears  ; 

We  give  them  evil  dreams, 
Leaning  softly  out 

From  ferns  that  drop  their  tears 

Of  dew  on  the  young  streams. 
Come !  O,  human  child  ! 
To  the  woods  and  waters  wild, 
With  a  fairy  hand  in  hand. 
For  the  world's  more  full  of  weeping  than 
you  can  understand. 

Away  with  us,  he's  going, 
The  solemn-eyed ; 


THE  STOLEN  CHILD.  79 

He?ll  hear  no  more  the  lowing 

Of  the  calves  on  the  warm  hill-side. 

Or  the  kettle  on  the  hob 
Sing  peace  into  his  breast ; 

Or  see  the  brown  mice  bob 

Round  and  round  the  oatmeal  chest. 

For  he  comes,  the  human  child, 

To  the  woods  and  waters  wild, 

With  a  fairy  hand  in  hand, 

For  the  world's  more  full  of  weeping  than 
he  can  understand. 


MORKAHA. 

MORRAHA  rose  in  the  morning  and  washed  his  hands 
and  face,  and  said  his  prayers,  and  ate  his  food ;  and  he 
asked  God  to  prosper  the  day  for  him.  So,  he  went 
•lown  to  the  brink  of  the  sea,  and  he  saw  a  currach,  short 
and  green,  coming  towards  him  ;  and  in  it  there  was  but 
one  youthful  champion,  and  he  was  playing  hurly  from 
prow  to  stern  of  the  currach.  He  had  a  hurl  of  gold  and 
a  ball  of  silver ;  and  he  stopped  not  till  the  currach  was 
in  on  the  shore ;  and  he  drew  her  up  on  the  green  grass, 
and  put  fastenings  on  her  for  a  year  and  a  day,  whether 
he  should  be  there  all  that  time  or  should  only  be  on  land 
for  an  hour  by  the  clock.  And  Morraha  saluted  the 
young  man  courteously  ;  and  the  other  saluted  him  in  the 
same  fashion,  and  asked  him  would  he  play  a  game  of 
cards  with  him ;  and  Morraha  said  that  he  had  not  the 
wherewithal ;  and  the  other  answered  that  he  was  never 
without  a  candle  or  the  making  of  H ;  and  he  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  table  and  two  chairs 
and  a  pack  of  cards,  and  they  sat  down  on  the  chairs  and 
went  to  card-playing.  The  first  game  Morraha  won,  and 
the  Slender  Red  Champion  bade  him  make  his  claim; 
and  he  asked  that  the  land  about  him  should  be  filled 
with  stock  of  sheep  in  the  morning.  It  was  well ;  and 
he  played  no  second  game,  but  home  he  went. 

The  next  day  Morraha  went  to  the  brink  of  the  sea, 
and  the  young  man  came  in  the  currach  and  asked  him 
would  he  play  cards  ;  they  played,  and  Morraha  won. 
The  young  man  bade  him  make  his  claim  ;  and  he  asked 
that  the  land  above  should  be  filled  with  cattle  in  the 
morning.  It  was  well ;  and  he  played  no  other  game,  but 
went  home. 
80 


-V 
<  J 


MORRAHA.  81 

On  the  third  morning  Morraha  went  to  the  brink  of 
the  sea,  and  he  saw  the  young  man  coming.     He  drew  up 
his  boat  on  the  shore  and  asked  him  would  he  play  cards. 
They  played,  and  Morraha  won  the  game  ;  and  the  young 
man  bade  him  give  his  claim.     And  he  said  he  would  huve~""\ 
a  castle  and  a  wife,  the  finest  and  fairest  in  the  world  :_^ 
and  they  were  his.     It  was  well ;  and  the  Red  Champiui  " 
went  away. 

On  the  fourth  day  his  wife  asked  him  how  he  had 
found  her.  And  he  told  her.  "And  I  am  going  out," 
said  he,  "  to  play  again  to-day." 

"  I  forbid  you  to  go  again  to  him.  If  you  have  won  so 
much,  you  will  lose  more;  have  no  more  to  do  with 
him." 

But  he  went  against  her  will,  and  he  saw  the  currach 
coming;  and  the  Red  Champion  was  driving  his  balls 
from  end  to  end  of  the  currach;  he  had  balls  of  silver  and 
a  hurl  of  gold,  and  he  stopped  not  til]  he  drew  his  boat 
on  the  shore,  and  made  her  fast  for  a  year  and  a  day. 
Morraha  and  he  saluted  each  other;  and  he  asked  Mor 
raha  if  he  would  play  a  game  of  cards,  and  they  played, 
and  he  won.  Morraha  said  to  him,  "  Give  your  claim 
now." 

Said  he,  "  You  will  hear  it  too  soon.  I  lay  on  you 
bonds  of  the  art  of  the  Druid,  not  to  sleep  two  nights  in 
one  house,  nor  finish  a  second  meal  at  the  one  table,  till 
you  bring  me  the  sword  of  light  and  news  of  the  death 
of  Anshgayliacht." 

He  went  home  to  his  wife  and  sat  down  in  a  chair,  and 
£ive  a  groan,  and  the  chair  broke  in  pieces. 

u  That  is  the  groan  of  the  son  of  a  king  under 
srud  his  wife ;  "  and  you  had  better  have  taken  my  coun 
sel  than  that  the  spells  should  be  on  you." 

He  told  her  he  had  to  bring  news  of  the  death  of 
Anshgayliacht  and  the  sword  of  light  to  the  Slender 
Red  Champion. 

/^G^jout,"  said   she,  "   in  the   morning  of  the  morrow, 
and  take  the '"Tmctle rTrTthe  window,  and  shake  it;  and 
6 


82  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

whatever  beast,  handsome  or  ugly,  puts  its  head  in  it; 
take  that  one  with  you.  Do  not  speak  a  word  to  her  till 
she  speaks  to  you ;  and  take  with  you  three  pint  bottles 
of  ale  and  three  sixpenny  loaves,  and  do  the  thing  she 
tells  you ;  and  when  she  runs  to  my  father's  land,  on  a 
height  above  the  castle,  she  will  shake  herself,  and  the 
bells  will  ring,  and  my  father  will  say,4  Brown  Allree  is 
in  the  land.  And  if  the  son  of  a  king  or  queen  is  there, 
bring  him  to  me  on  your  shoulders ;  but  if  it  is  the  son 
of  a  poor  man,  let  him  come  no  further.'  " 

He  rose  in  the  morning,  and  took  the  bridle  that  was 
in  the  window,  and  went  out  and  shook  it ;  and  Brown 
Allree  came  and  put  her  head  in  it.  He  took  the  three 
loaves  and  three  bottles  of  ale,  and  went  riding;  and 
when  he  wras  riding  she  bent  her  head  down  to  take  hold 
of  her  feet  with  her  mouth,  in  hopes  he  would  speak  in 
ignorance ;  but  he  spoke  not  a  word  during  the  time,  and 
the  mare  at  last  spoke  to  him,  and  told  him  to  dismount 
and  give  her  her  dinner.  He  gave  her  the  sixpenny  loaf 
toasted,  and  a  bottle  of  ale  to  drink. 

"  Sit  up  now  riding,  and  take  good  heed  of  yourself : 
there  are  three  miles  of  fire  I  have  to  clear  at  a  leap." 

She  cleared  the  three  miles  of  fire  at  a  leap,  and  asked  if 
he  were  still  riding,  and  he  said  he  was.  Then  they  went 
on,  and  she  told  him  to  dismount  and  give  her  a  meal ; 
and  he  did  so,  and  gave  her  a  sixpenny  loaf  and  a  bottle ; 
she  consumed  them  and  said  to  him  there  were  before 
them  three  miles  of  hill  covered  with  steel  thistles,  and 
that  she  must  clear  it.  She  cleared  the  hill  with  a  leap, 
and  she  asked  him  if  he  were  still  riding,  and  he  said  he 
was.  They  went  on,  and  she  went  not  far  before  she  told 
him  to  give  her  a  meal,  and  he  gave  her  the  bread  and 
the  bottleful.  She  went  over  three  miles  of  sea  with  a 
leap,  and  she  came  then  to  the  land  of  the  King  of 
France ;  she  went  up  on  a  height  above  the  castle,  and 
she  shook  herself  and  neighed,  and  the  bells  rang  ;  and 
the  king  said  that  it  was  Brown  Allree  was  in  the 
land. 


MORRAHA.  Sl:> 

"(.Jo  out,"  said  lie;  u  ami  il'  it  is  the  sou  of  a  king  or 
queen,  carry  him  on  your  shoulders;  if  it  is  not,  leave 
him  there." 

They  went  out  ;  and  the  stars  of  the  son  of  a  king  were 
on  his  hivast  ;  they  lifted  him  high  on  their  shoulders  and 
ho  re  him  in  to  the  king.  They  passed  the  night  cheer 
fully,  playing  and  drinking,  with  sport  and  with  diversion, 
till  the  whiteness  of  the  day  came  upon  the  morrow  morn 
ing. 

Then  the  young  king  told  the  cause  of  his  journey, 
and  he  asked  the  queen  to  give  him  counsel  and  good 
luck,  and  she  told  him  everything  he  was  to  do. 

"(in  now/'  said  she,  u  and  take  with  you  the  best  mare  in 
the  stable,  and  goto  the  door  of  Hough  Niall  of  the  speck 
led  Rock,  and  knock,  and  call  on  him  to  give  you  news  of 
the  death  of  Anshgayliacht  and  the  sword  of  light:  and 
let  the  horse's  hack  he  to  the  door,  and  apply  the  spurs, 
and  away  with  you." 

In  the  morning  he  did  so,  and  took  the  best  horse  from 
the  stable  and  rode  to  the  door  of  Niall,  and  turned  the 
horse's  hack  to  the  door,  and  demanded  news  of  the  death 
of  Anshgayliacht  and  the  sword  of  light  ;  then  he  applied 
the  spurs,  and  away  with  him.  Niall  followed  him  hard, 
and,  as  he  was  passing  the  gate,  cut  the  horse  in  two.  His 
wife  was  there  with  a  dish  of  puddings  and  nesh,  and  she 
threw  it  in  his  eyes  and  blinded  him,  and  said,  "  Fool ! 
whatever  kind  of  man  it  is  that's  mocking  you,  isn't  that 
a  fine  condition  you  have  got  your  father's  horse  into?  " 

On  the  morning  of  he  next  day  Morraha  rose,  and  took 
another  horse  from  the  stable,  and  went  again  to  the  door 
of  Niall,  and  knock  <••'  and  demanded  news  of  the  death  of 
Anshgayliacht  and  the  sword  of  light,  and  applied  the 
spurs  to  the  horse  and  away  with  him.  Niall  followed, 
and  as  Morraha  was  passing,  the  gate  cut  the  horse  in  two 
and  took  half  i.iie  saddle  with  him;  but  his  wife  met  him 
and  threw  fi<Vu  in  his  eyes  and  blinded  him. 

On  the  third  day,  Morraha  went  again  to  the  door  of 
Niall;  and  Xiall  followed  him,  and  as  he  was  passing 


84:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  gate,  cut  away    the  saddle  from  under  him  and  the 

clothes  from  his  back.     Then  his  wife  said  to  Niall : 
"  The  fool  that's  mocking  you,  is  out  yonder  in  the  little 

currach,  going  home ;  and  take  good  heed  to  yourself,  and 

don't  sleep  one  wink  for  three  days." 

For  three  days  the  little  currach  kept  in  sight,  but  then 

Niall 's  wife  came  to  him  and  said : 

"  Sleep  as  much  as  you  want  now.     He  is  gone." 

He  went  to  sleep,  and  there  was  heavy  sleep  on  him, 

and  Morraha  went  in  and  took  hold  of  the  sword  that 

was  on  the  bed  at  his  head.     And  the  sword  thought  to 

draw  itself  out  of  the  hand  of  Morraha ;  but  it  failed. 

Then  it  gave  a  cry,  and  it  wakened  Niall,  and  Niall  said  it 

was  a  rude  and  rough  thing  to  come  into  his  house  like 

that ;   and  said  Morraha  to  him  : 

"Leave  your  much  talking,  or  I  will   cut  the  head  off 

you.     Tell  me  the  news  of  the  death  of  Anshgayliacht." 
"  Oh,  you  can  have  my  head." 

"  But  your  head  is  no  good  to  me ;  tell  me  the  story." 
"  Oh,"  said  NialFs  wife,  "  you  must  get  the  story." 
"  Well,"  said  Niall,  "  let  us  sit  down  together  till  I  tell 

the  story.     I  thought  no  one  would  ever  get  it ;  but  now 

it  will  be  heard  by  all." 


THE  STORY. 

When  I  was  growing  up,  my  mother  taught  me  the 
language  of  the  birds ;  and  when  I  got  married,  I  used  to 
be  listening  to  their  conversation ;  and  I  would  be  laugh 
ing  ;  and  my  wife  would  be  asking  me  what  was  the  rea 
son  of  my  laughing,  but  I  did  not  like  to  tell  her,  as 
women  are  always  asking  questions.  We  went  out  walk 
ing  one  fine  morning,  and  the  birds  were  arguing  with 
one  another.  One  of  them  said  to  another : 

"Why  should  you  be  comparing  yourself  with  me, 
when  there  is  not  a  king  nor  knight  that  does  not  come 
to  look  at  my  tree  ?  " 


MORRAHA,  85 

"  What  advantage  has  your  tree  over  mine,  on  which 
there  are  three  rods  of  magic  mastery  growing  ?  " 

When  I  heard  them  arguing-,  and  knew  that  the  rods 
were  there,  I  began  to  laugh. 

"  Oh,"  asked  my  wife,  "  why  are  you  always  laughing? 
I  believe  it  is  at  myself  you  are  jesting,  and  I'll  walk  with 
you  no  more." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  about  you  I  am  laughing.  It  is  because 
I  understand  the  language  of  the  birds." 

Then  I  had  to  tell  her  what  the  birds  were  saying  to  one 
another  ;  and  she  was  greatly  delighted,  and  she  asked  me 
to  go  home,  and  she  gave  orders  to  the  cook  to  have  break 
fast  ready  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  did  not  know- 
why  she  was  going  out  early,  and  breakfast  was  ready  in 
the  morning  at  the  hour  she  appointed.  She  asked  me  to 
go  out  walking.  I  went  with  her.  She  went  to  the  tree, 
and  asked  me  to  cut  a  rod  for  her. 

"Oh,  I  will  not  cut  it.     Are  we  not  better  without  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  leave  this  until  I  get  the  rod,  to  see  if  there 
is  any  good  in  it.'" 

I  cut  the  rod  and  gave  it  to  her.  She  turned  from  me 
and  struck  a  blow  on  a  stone,  and  changed  it  ;  and  she 
struck  a  second  blow  on  me,  and  made  of  me  a  black  raven, 
and  she  went  home  and  left  me  after  her.  I  thought  she 
would  come  back;  she  did  not  come,  and  I  bad  to  go  into 
a  tree  till  morning.  In  the  morning,  at  six  o'clock,  there 
was  a  bellman  out,  proclaiming  that  every  one  who  killed 
a  raven  would  get  a  fourpenny-bit.  At  last  you  could  not 
mid  man  or  boy  without  a  gun,  nor,  if  you  were  to  walk 
three  miles,  a  raven  that  was  not  killed.  I  had  to  make 
a  nest  in  the  top  of  a  parlor  chimney,  and  hide  myself  all 
day  till  night  came,  and  go  out  to  pick  up  a  bit  to  support 
me,  till  I  spent  a  month.  Here  she  is  herself  to  say  if  it 
is  a  lie  I  am  telling. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  she. 

Then  I  saw  her  out  walking.  I  went  up  to  her,  and  I 
thought  she  would  turn  me  back  to  my  own  shape,  and 
she  struck  me  with  the  rod  and  made  of  me  an  old  white 


sr, 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


horse,  and  she  ordered  me  to  be  put  to  a  cart  with  a  mant 
to  draw  stones  from  morning  till  night.  I  was  worse  off 
then.  She  spread  abroad  a  report  that  I  had  died  sud 
denly  in  my  bed,  and  prepared  a  coffin,  and  waked  and 
buried  me.  Then  she  had  no  trouble.  But  when  I  got 
tired  I  began  to  kill  every  one  who  came  near  me,  and  I 


used  to  go  into  the  haggard  every  night  and  destroy  the 
stacks  of  corn ;  and  when  a  man  came  near  me  in  the 
morning  I  would  follow  him  till  I  broke  his  bones. 
Every  one  got  afraid  of  me.  When  she  saw  I  was  doing 
mischief  she  came  to  meet  me,  and  I  thought  she  would 
change  me.  And  she  did  change  me,  and  made  a  fox  of 
me.  When  I  saw  she  was  doing  me  every  sort  of  damage 


MOtlRAHA.  87 

I  went  away  from  her.  I  knew  there  was  a  badger's  hole 
in  the  garden,  and  I  wen1  there  till  night  came,  and  I 
made  great  slaughter  among  the  geese  and  ducks. 
There  she  is  herself  to  say  if  I  am  telling  a  lie. 

"Oh!  you  are  telling  nothing  but  the  truth,  only  less 
than  the  truth." 

When  she  had  enough  of  my  killing  the  fowl  she  came 
out  into  the  garden,  for  she  knew  I  was  in  the  badger's 
hole.  She  came  to  me  and  made  me  a  wolf.  I  had  to  be 
off,  and  go  to  an  island,  where  no  one  at  all  would  see  me, 
and  now  and  then  I  used  to  be  killing  sheep,  for  there 
were  not  many  of  them,  and  I  was  afraid  of  being  seen 
and  hunted  ;  and  so  I  passed  a  year,  till  a  shepherd  saw 
me  among  the  sheep  and  a  pursuit  was  made  after  rue. 
And  when  the  dogs  came  near  me  there  was  no  place  for 
me  to  escape  to  from  them  ;  but  I  recognized  the  sign  of 
the  king  among  the  men,  and  T  made  for  him,  and  the 
king  cried  out  to  stop  the  hounds.  I  took  a  leap  upon 
the  front  of  the  king's  saddle,  and  the  woman  behind  cried 
out,  "My  king  and  my  lord,  kill  him,  or  he  will  kill 
you !  " 

"Oh!  he  will  not  kill  me.  lie  knew  me;  he  must  be 
pardoned." 

The  king  took  me  home  with  him,  and  gave  orders  T 
should  be  well  cared  for.  I  was  so  wise,  when  T  got  food, 
T  would  not  eat  one  morsel  until  I  got  a  knife  and  fork. 
The  man  told  the  king,  and  the  king  came  to  see  if  it 
vas  true,  and  I  got  a  knife  and  fork,  and  I  took  the  knife 
n  one  paw  and  the  fork  in  the  other,  and  I  bowed  to  the 
king.  The  king  gave  orders  to  bring  him  drink,  and  it 
came  ;  and  the  king  tilled  a  glass  of  wine  and  gave  it  to 
me. 

I  took  hold  of  it  in  my  paw  and  drank  it,  and  thanked 
the  king. 

"  On  my  honor,"  said  he,  "  it  is  some  king  or  other  has 
lost  him,  when  he  came  on  the  island;  and  I  will  keep 
him,  as  he  is  trained ;  and  perhaps  he  will  serve  us  yet." 

And  this  is  the  sort  of  king  he  was, — a  king  who  had 


SS  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

not  a  child  living.  Eight  sons  were  born  to  him  and  three 
(laughters,  and  they  were  stolen  the  same  night  they 
were  born.  No  matter  what  guard  was  placed  over  them, 
the  child  would  be  gone  in  the  morning.  A  twelfth  child 
now  came  to  the  queen,  and  the  king  took  me  with  him 
to  watch  the  baby.  The  women  were  not  satisfied  with 
me. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  king,  "  what  was  all  your  watching  ever 
good  for  ?  One  that  was  born  to  me  I  have  not ;  I  will 
leave  this  one  in  the  dog's  care,  and  he  will  not  let  it  go." 

A  coupling  was  put  between  me  and  the  cradle,  and 
when  every  one  went  to  sleep  I  was  watching  till  the 
person  woke  who  attended  in  the  daytime  ;  but  I  was  there 
only  two  nights  ;  when  it  was  near  the  day,  I  saw  a  hand 
coming  down  through  the  chimney,  and  the  hand  was  so 
big  that  it  took  round  the  child  altogether,  and  thought  to 
take  him  away.  I  caught  hold  of  the  hand  above  the  wrist, 
and  as  I  was  fastened  to  the  cradle,  I  did  not  let  go  my 
hold  till  I  cut  the  hand  from  the  wrist,  and  there  was  a 
howl  from  the  person  without.  I  laid  the  hand  in  the  cradle 
with  the  child,  and  as  I  was  tired  I  fell  asleep ;  and  when 
I  awoke,  I  had  neither  child  nor  hand ;  and  I  began  to 
howl,  and  the  king  heard  me,  arid  he  cried  out  that  some 
thing  was  wrong  with  me,  and  he  sent  servants  to  see 
Avliat  was  the  matter  with  me,  and  when  the  messenger 
came  he  saw  me  covered  with  blood,  and  he  could  not  see 
the  child  ;  and  he  went  to  the  king  and  told  him  the  child 
was  not  to  be  got.  The  king  came  and  saw  the  cradle 
colored  with  the  blood,  and  he  cried  out  "where  was 
the  child  gone  ?  "  and  every  one  said  it  Avas  the  clog  had 
eaten  it. 

The  king  said  :  "  It  is  not ;  loose  him,  and  he  will  get 
the  pursuit  himself." 

When  I  was  loosed,  I  found  the  scent  of  the  blood  till  I 
came  to  a  door  of  the  room  in  which  the  child  was.  I  went 
back  to  the  king  and  took  hold  of  him,  and  went  back  again 
and  began  to  tear  at  the  door.  The  king  followed  me  and 
asked  for  the  key.  The  servant  said  it  was  in  the  room  of 


I  saw  a  hand  coming  down  through  the  chimney,  and  it  took  the  child,  and 
thought  to  take  him  away.—  Pagre  88.  Irish  Fair?/  Tales 


MOORAHA.  S9 

the  stranger  woman.  The  king  caused  search  to  be  made 
for  her,  and  she  was  not  to  he  found.  "  T  will  break  the 
door,"  said  the  king,  "as  I  can't  get  the  key."  The  king 
broke  the  door,  and  T  went  in,  and  went  to  the  trunk,  and 
the  king  asked  for  a  key  to  unlock  it.  He  got  no  key,  and 
lie  broke  the  lock.  When  he  opened  the  trunk,  the  child 
and  the  hand  were  stretched  side  by  side,  and  the  child 
was  asleep.  The  king  took  the  hand  and  ordered  a  woman 
to  conic  for  the  child,  and  he  showed  the  hand  to  every  one 
in  the  house.  But  the  stranger  woman  was  gone,  and  she 
did  not  see  the  king; — and  here  she  is  herself  to  say  if  1 
am  telling  lies  of  her. 

ki  ( >h,  it's  nothing  but  the  truth  you  have  !  " 
The  king  did    not  allow   me  to  be   tied  any   more.      He 
said  there  was  nothing  so  much  to  wonder  at  as  that  I  cut 
the.  hand  off,  as  I  was  tied. 

The  child  was  growing  till  he  was  a  year  old.  He  was 
beginning  to  walk,  and  no  one  cared  for  him  more  than  I 
did.  lie  was  growing  till  he  was  three,  and  he  was 
running  out  every  minute;  so  the  king  ordered  ;i  silver 
chain  to  be  put  between  me  and  the  child,  that  he,  might 
not  go  away  from  me.  T  was  out  with  him  in  the  garden 
every  day,  and  the  king  was  as  proud  as  the  world  of  the, 
child,  lie  would  be  watching  him  everywhere  we  went, 
till  the  child  grew  so  wise  that  he  would  loose  the  chain 
and  get  off.  Unt  one  day  that  he  loosed  it  I  failed  to  Hnd 
him  ;  and  I  ran  into  the  house  and  searched  the  house  but 
there  was  no  getting  him  for  me.  The  king  cried  to  go  out 
and  find  the  child,  that  had  got  loose  from  the  dog.  They 
went  searching  for  him,  but  could  not  find  him.  When 
they  failed  altogether  to  rind  him,  there  remained  no  more 
favor  with  the  king  towards  me,  and  every  one  disliked 
me,  and  I  grew  weak,  for  I  did  not  get  a  morsel  to  cat  half 
the  time,  When  summer  came,  I  said  I  would  try  and  ';•<> 
home  to  my  own  country.  I  went  away  one  fine  morning', 
and  I  went  swimming,  :ind  frod  helped  me  till  T  came  home. 
I  we  it  into  the  garden,  for  I  knew  there  was  a  place  in  the 
ga.rr7  ?n  where  I  could  hide  myself,  for  fear  my  wife  should 


90 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


see  me.  In  the  morning  I  saw  her  out  walking,  and  the 
child  witli  her,  held  by  the  hand.  I  pushed  out  to  see  the 
child,  and  as  he  was  looking  about  him  everywhere,  he  saw 
me  and  called  out,  "  I  see  my  shaggy  papa.  Oh  !  "  said  he  ; 
"  oh,  my  heart's  love,  my  shaggy  papa,  come  here  till  I  see 
you ! » 


I  was  afraid  the  woman  would  see  me,  as  she  was  asking 
tin-  child  where  he  saw  me,  and  he  said  I  was  up  in  a 
tree;  and  the  more  the  child  called  me,  the  more  I  hid 
The  woman  took  the  child  home  with  her  but 


1  knew  he  would  be  up  early  in  the  morning. 

I  went  to  the  parlor- window,  and  the  child  was  within, 
and  he  playing.  AYh<>n  he  saw  me  he  cried  out,  "Oh! 
my  heart's  love,  come  here  till  I  see  you,  shaggy  papa," 
f  hr»)k«'  the  window  and  went  in.  and  he  began  to  kiss  me. 
I  the  rod  in  front  of  the  chimney,  and  I  jumped  up 

at  the  rod  and  knocked  it  down.     "  Oh  !  my  heart":,  love, 
no  one  would  give  me  the  pretty  rod,"  said  he.     I  doped 


MOORAHA.  0 1 

he  would  strike  me  with  the  rod,  but  he  did  not.  When 
I  saw  the  time  was  short  I  raised  my  paw,  and  I  gave 
him  a  scratch  below  the  knee.  "Oh  !  you  naughty,  dirty, 
shaggy  papa,  you  have  hurt  me  so  much,  I'll  give  you  a 
blow  of  the  rod."  He  struck  me  a  light  blow,  and  so  I 
came  back  to  my  own  shape  again.  When  he  saw  a  man 
standing  before  him  he  gave  a  cry,  and  I  took  him  up  in 
my  arms.  The  servants  heard  the  child.  A  maid  came 
in  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  him.  When  she  saw 
me  she  gave  a  cry  out  of  her,  and  she  said,  "Oh,  if  the 
master  isn't  come  to  life  again  !  " 

Another  came  in,  and  said  it  was  he  really.  When  the 
mistress  heard  of  it,  she  came  to  see  with  her  own  eyes, 
for  she  would  not  believe  I  was  there  ;  and  when  she  saw 
me  she  said  she'd  drown  herself.  Hut  I  said  to  her,  "If 
you  yourself  will  keep  the  secret,  no  living  man  will  ever 
get  the  story  from  me  until  I  lose  my  head."  Here  she  is 
herself  to  say  if  I  am  telling  the  truth.  "Oh,  it's  nothing 
but  truth  you  are  telling.'' 

When  I  saw  I  was  in  a  man's  shape,  I  sairl  I  would 
take  the  child  back  to  his  father  and  mother,  as  I  knew 
the  grief  they  were  in  after  him.  I  got  a  ship,  and  took 
the  child  with  me  ;  and  as  I  journeyed  I  came  to  land  on 
an  island,  and  I  saw  not  a  living  soul  on  it,  only  a  castle 
dark  and  gloomy.  I  went  in  to  see  was  there  any  one  in 
it.  There  was  no  one  but  an  old  hag,  tall  and  frightful, 
and  she  asked  me,  "What  sort  of  person  are  you?"  I 
heard  some  one  groaning  in  another  room,  and  1  said  I 
was  a  doctor,  and  I  asked  her  what  ailed  the  person  who 
was  groaning. 

"  Oh,"  said  she,  "  it  is  my  son,  whose  hand  has  been 
bitten  from  his  wrist  by  a  dog." 

I  knew  then  that  it  was  he  who  had  taken  the  child 
from  me,  and  I  said  I  would  cure  him  if  I  got  a  good  re 
ward. 

"  I  have  nothing  ;  but  there  are  eight  young  lads  and 
three  young  women,  as  handsome  as  any  one  ever  laid 
eyes  on,  and  if  you  cure  him  I  will  give  you  them," 


02  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  Tell  me  first  in  what  place  his  hand  was  cut  from 
him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  out  in  another  country,  twelve  years  ago." 

"  Show  me  the  way,  that  I  may  see  him." 

She  brought  me  into  a  room,  so  that  I  saw  him,  and  his 
arm  was  swelled  up  to  the  shoulder.  lie  asked  me  if  I 
would  cure  him ;  and  I  said  I  would  cure  him  if  he  would 
give  me  the  reward  his  mother  promised. 

"  Oh,  I  will  give  it ;  but  cure  me." 

"  Well,  bring  them  out  to  me." 

The  hag  brought  them  out  of  the  room.  I  said  I  should 
burn  the  flesh  that  was  on  his  arm.  When  I  looked  on 
him  he  was  howling  with  pain.  I  said  that  I  would  not 
leave  him  in  pain  long.  The  wretch  had  only  one  eye  in 
his  forehead.  I  took  a  bar  of  iron,  and  put  it  in  the  fin; 
till  it  was  red,  and  I  said  to  the  hag,  "  He  will  be  howling 
ut  first,  but  will  fall  asleep  presently,  and  do  not  wake 
him  till  he  has  slept  as  much  as  he  wants.  I  will  close 
the  door  when  I  am  going  out."  I  1;ook  the  bar  with  me, 
and  I  stood  over  him,  and  I  turned  it  across  through  his 
eye  as  far  as  I  could.  He  began  to  bellow,  and  tried  to 
catch  me,  but  I  was  out  and  away,  having  closed  the  door. 
The  hag  asked  me,  "  "Why  is  he  bellowing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  will  be  quiet  presently,  and  will  sleep  for  a 
good  while,  and  I'll  come  again  to  have  a  look  at  him  ;  but 
bring  me  out  the  young  men  and  the  young  women." 

I  took  them  with  me,  and  I  said  to  her,  "  Tell  me  where 
you  got  them." 

"  My  son  brought  them  with  him,  and  they  are  all  the 
children  of  one  king." 

I  was  well  satisfied,  and  I  had  no  wish  for  delay  to  get 
myself  free  from  the  hag,  so  I  took  them  on  board  the 
ship,  and  the  child  I  had  myself.  I  thought  the  king 
might  leave  me  the  child  I  nursed  myself ;  but  when  I 
came  to  land,  and  all  these  young  people  with  me,  the 
king  and  queen  were  out  walking.  The  king  was  very 
aged,  and  the  queen  aged  likewise.  When  I  came  to 
converse  with  them,  and  the  twelve  with  me,  the  king 


MOORAHA.  <);) 

and  queen  began  to  cry.  I  asked,  "  Why  are  you  cry 
ing?" 

"  It  is  for  good  cause  I  am  crying.  As  many  children 
as  these  I  should  have,  and  now  I  am  withered,  gray,  at 
the  end  of  my  life,  and  I  have  not  one  at  all." 

I  told  him  all  I  went  through,  and  I  gave  him  the  child 
in  his  hand,  and  "  These  are  your  other  children  who  were 
stolen  from  you,  whom  I  am  giving  to  you  safe.  They 
are  gently  reared." 

When  the  king  heard  who  they  were  he  smothered 
them  with  kisses  and  drowned  them  with  tears,  and  dried 
them  with  tine  cloths  silken  and  the  hair  of  his  own  head, 
and  so  also  did  their  mother,  and  great  was  his  welcome 
for  me,  as  it  was  I  who  found  them  all.  The  king  said 
to  me,  "I  Avill  give  you  the  last  child,  as  it  is  you  who 
have  earned  him  best;  but  you  must  come  to  my  court 
every  year,  and  the  child  with  you,  and  I  will  share  with 
you  my  possessions. 

u  I  have  enough  of  my  own,  and  after  my  death  I  will 
leave  it  to  the  child." 

1  spent  a  time,  till  my  visit  was  over,  and  I  told  the  king 
all  the  troubles  I  went  through,  only  I  said  nothing  about 
my  wife.  And  now  you  have  the  story. 

And  now  when  you  go  home,  and  the  Slender  Red 
Champion  asks  you  for  news  of  the  death  of  Aushgayliacht 
and  for  the  sword  of  light,  tell  him  the  way  in  which  his 
brother  Avas  killed,  and  say  you  have  the  sword  ;  and  he 
will  ask  the  sword  from  you.  Say  you  to  him,  "  If  I 
promised  to  bring  it  to  yon,  I  did  not  promise  to  bring  it 
for  you  ; "  and  then  throw  the  sword  into  the  air  and  it 
will  come  back  to  me. 

lie  went  home,  and  he  told  the  story  of  the  death  of 
Anshgayliacht  to  the  Slender  Red  Champion,  "  And  here," 
said  he,  "is  the  sword."  The  Slender  Red  Champion 
asked  for  the  sword  ;  but  he  said  :  "  If  I  promised  to  bring 
it  to  yon,  I  did  not  promise  to  bring  it  for  you  ;  "  and  he 
threw  it  into  the  air  and  it  returned  to  Blue  Niall. 


THE  MERKOW. 

The  Merrow,  or  if  you  write  it  in  the  Irish,  Moruadh  or 
Murn'iyhacJi,  from  muir,  sea,  and  oigli,  a  maid,  is  not  un 
common,  they  say,  on  the  wilder  coasts.  The  fishermen 
do  not  like  to  see  them,  for  it  always  means  coming  gales. 
The  male  Merrows  (if  you  can  use  such  a  phrase — I  have 
never  heard  the  masculine  of  Merrow)  have  green  teeth, 
green  hair,  pig's  eyes,  and  red  noses ;  but  their  women 
are  beautiful,  for  all  their  fish  tails  and  the  little  duck-like 
scale  between  their  fingers.  Sometimes  they  prefer,  small 
blame  to  them,  good-looking  fishermen  to  their  sea  lovers. 
Near  Bantry,  in  the  last  century,  there  is  said  to  have  been 
a  woman  covered  all  over  with  scales  like  a  fish,  who  was 
descended  from  such  a  marriage.  Sometimes  they  come 
out  of  the  sea,  and  wander  about  the  shore  in  the  shape 
of  little  hornless  cows.  They  have,  when  in  their  own 
shape,  a  red  cap,  called  a  cohutten  druith,  usually  covered 
with  feathers.  If  this  is  stolen,  they  cannot  again  go 
down  under  the  waves. 

lied  is  the  color  of  magic  in  every  country,  and  has 
been  so  from  the  very  earliest  times.  The  caps  of  fairies 
and  magicians  are  well-nigh  always  red. 

THE    SOUL    CAGES. 

T.  CROFTOX  CHOKER. 

JACK  DOGHERTY  lived  on  the  coast  of  the  county  Clare. 
Jack  was  a  fisherman,  as  his  father  and  grandfather  before 
him  had  been.  Like  them,  too,  he  lived  all  alone  (but  for 
the  wife),  and  just  in  the  same  spot.  People  used  to 
wonder  why  the  Dogherty  family  were  so  fond  of  that 
94 


THE  MERROW.  95 

\vild  situation,  so  faraway  from  all  human  kind,  and  in  the 
midst  of  huge  shattered  rocks,  with  nothing  but  the  wide 
ocean  to  look  upon.  But  they  had  their  own  good  reasons 
for  it. 

The  place  was  just  the  only  spot  on  that  part  of  the 
coast  where  anybody  could  well  live.  There  was  a  neat 
little  creek,  where  a  boat  might  lie  as  snug  as  a  puffin  in 
her  nest,  and  out  from  this  creek  a  ledge  of  sunken  rocks 
ran  into  the  sea.  Now  when  the  Atlantic,  according  to  cus 
tom,  was  raging  with  a  storm,  and  a  good  westerly  wind 
was  blowing  strong  on  the  coast,  many  a  richly-laden  ship 
went  to  pieees  on  these  rocks;  and  then  the  tine  bales  of 
cotton  and  tobacco,  and  such  like  things,  and  the  pipes  of 
wine,  and  the  puncheons  of  rum,  and  the  casks  of  brandy, 
and  the  kegs  of  Hollands  that  used  to  come  ashore  !  Dun- 
beg  Bay  was  just  like  a  little  estate  to  the  1  )oghertys. 

Xot  but  they  were  kind  and  humane  to  a  distressed 
sailor,  if  ever  one  had  the  good  luck  to  get  to  land  ;  and 
many  a  time  indeed  did  Jack  put  out  in  his  little  mwnjh 
(which,  though  not  quite  equal  to  honest  Andrew  Hen- 
nessy's  canvas  life-boat,  would  breast  the  billows  like  any 
gannet),  to  lend  a  hand  towards  bringing  off  the  crew 
from  a  wreck.  But  when  the  ship  had  gone  to  pieces, 
and  the  crew  were  all  lost,  who  would  blame  Jack  for 
picking  up  all  he  could  find  ? 

"  And  who  is  the  worse  of  it  ?  "  said  he.  "  For  as  to 
the  king,  God  bless  him !  everybody  knows  he's  rich 
enough  already  without  getting  what's  floating  in  the  sea/1 

Jack,  though  such  a  hermit,  was  a  good-natured,  jolly 
fellow.  Xo  other,  sure,  could  ever  have  coaxed  Biddy 
Mahony  to  quit  her  father's  snug  and  warm  house  in  the 
middle  of  the  town  of  Ennis,  and  to  go  so  many  miles  off 
to  live  among  the  rocks,  with  the  seals  and  sea-gulls  for 
next-door  neighbors.  But  Biddy  knew  that  Jack  was  the 
man  for  a  woman  who  wished  to  be  comfortable  and 
happy  ;  for,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fish,  Jack  had  the  sup 
plying  of  half  the  gentlemen's  houses  of  the  country  with 
the  Godsends  that  came  into  the  bay.  And  she  was  right 


9G  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

in  her  choice ;  for  no  \vomun  ate,  drank,  slept  better,  or 
made  a  prouder  appearance  at  chapel  on  Sundays,  than 
Mrs.  Dogherty. 

Many  a  strange  sight,  it  may  well  be  supposed,  did  Jack 
see,  and  many  a  strange  sound  did  he  hear,  but  nothing 
daunted  him.  So  far  was  he  from  being  afraid  of  Merrows, 
or  such  beings,  that  the  very  first  wish  of  his  heart  was  to 
fairly  meet  with  one.  Jack  had  heard  that  they  were 
mighty  like  Christians,  and  that  luck  had  always  come  out 
of  an  acquaintance  with  them.  Never,  therefore,  did  he 
dimly  discern  the  Merrows  moving  along  the  face  of  the 
waters  in  their  robes  of  mist,  but  he  made  direct  for 
them  ;  and  many  a  scolding  did  Biddy,  in  her  own  quiet 
way,  bestow  upon  Jack  for  spending  his  whole  day  out 
at  sea,  and  bringing  home  no  fish.  Little  did  poor  Biddy 
know  the  fish  Jack  was  after  ! 

It  was  rather  annoying  to  Jack  that,  though  living  in  a 
place  where  the  Merrows  were  as  plently  as  lobsters,  he 
never  could  get  a  right  view  of  one.  What  vexed  him 
more  was  that  both,  his  father  and  grandfather  had 
often  and  often  seen  them ;  and  lie  even  remembered  hear 
ing,  when  a  child,  how  his  grandfather,  who  was  the  first 
of  the  family  that  had  settled  down  at  the  creek,  had  been 
so  intimate  with  a  Merrow  that,  only  for  fear  of  vexing 
the  priest,  he  would  have  had  him  stand  for  one  of  his 
children.  This,  however,  Jack  did  not  well  know  how  to 
believe. 

Fortune  at  length  began  to  think  that  it  was  only  right 
that  Jack  should  know  as  much  as  his  father  and  grand 
father  did.  Accordingly,  one  day  when  he  had  strolled  a 
little  farther  than  usual  along  the  coast  to  the  northward, 
just  as  he  turned  a  point,  he  saw  something,  like  to  noth 
ing  he  had  ever  seen  before,  perched  upon  a  rock  at  a  little 
distance  out  to  sea.  It  looked  green  in  the  body,  as  well 
as  he  could  discern  at  that  distance,  and  he  would  have 
sworn,  only  the  thing  was  impossible,  that  it  had  a  cocked 
hat  in  its  hand.  Jack  stood  for  a  good  half-hour  straining 
his  eyes,  and  wondering  at  it,  and  all  the  time  the  thing 


THE  MERKOW.  97 

did  not  stir  hand  or  foot.  At  last  Jack's  patience  \vas 
quite  worn  out,  and  he  gave  a  loud  whistle  and  a  hail, 
when  the  Merrow  (for  such  it  was)  started  up,  put  the 
cocked  hat  on  its  head,  and  dived  down,  head-foremost 
from  the  rock. 

Jack's  curiosity  was  now  excited,  and  he  constantly 
directed  his  steps  towards  the  point :  still  he  could  never 
get  a  glimpse,  of  the  sea-gentleman  with  the  cocked  hat ; 
and  with  thinking  and  thinking  about  the  matter,  he 
began  at  last  to  fancy  he  had  been  only  dreaming.  One 
very  rough  day,  however,  when  the  sea  was  running 
mountains  high,  Jack  Dogherty  determined  to  give  a 
look  at  the  Merrow's  rock  (for  he  had  always  chosen  a 
line  day  before),  and  then  he  saw  the  strange  thing  cut 
ting  capers  upon  the  top  of  the  rock,  and  then  diving 
down,  and  then  coming  up,  and  then  diving  down  again. 

Jack  had  now  only  to  choose  his  time  (that  is,  a  good 
blowing  day)  and  he  might  see  the  man  of  the  sea  as 
often  as  he  pleased.  All  this,  however,  did  not  satisfy 
him—"  much  will  have  more  "  ;  he  wished  now  to  get  ac 
quainted  with  the  Merrows,  and  even  in  this  lie  succeeded. 
One  tremendous  blustering  day,  before  begot  to  the  point 
whence  he  had  a  view  of  the  Merrow's  rock,  the  storm 
came  on  so  furiously  that  Jack  was  obliged  to  take 
shelter  in  one  of  the  caves  Avhich  are  so  numerous  along 
the  coast ;  and  there,  to  his  astonishment,  he  saw  sitting 
before  him  a  thing  with  green  hair,  long  green  teeth,  a 
red  nose,  and  pig's  eyes.  It  had  a  fish's  tail,  legs  with 
scales  on  them,  and  short  arms  like  fins.  It  wore  no 
clothes,  but  had  the  cocked  hat  under  its  arm,  and  seemed 
engaged  thinking  very  seriously  about  something. 

Jack,  with  all  his  courage,  was  a  little  daunted ;  but 
now  or  never,  thought  he  ;  so  up  he  went  boldly  to  the 
cogitating  fishman,  took  off  his  hat,  and  made  his  best 
bow. 

"  Your  servant,  sir,"  said  Jack. 

"  Your  servant,  kindly,  Jack  Dogherty,"  answered  the 
Merrow. 
7 


98  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"To  be  sure,  then,  how  well  your  honor  knows  my 
name !  "  said  Jack. 

"  Is  it  I  not  know  your  name,  Jack  Dogherty  ?  Why, 
man,  I  knew  your  grandfather  long  before  he  was  married 
to  Judy  Regan,  your  grandmother !  Ah,  Jack,  Jack,  I 
was  fond  of  that  grandfather  of  yours  ;  he  was  a  mighty 
worthy  man  in  his  time  :  I  never  met  his  match  above  or 
below,  before  or  since,  for  sucking  in  a  shellful  of  brandy. 
I  hope,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  fellow,  with  a  merry  twinkle 
in  his  eyes,  "  I  hope  you're  his  own  grandson  !  " 

"  Xever  fear  me  for  that,"  said  Jack ;  "  if  my  mother 
had  only  reared  me  on  brandy,  'tis  myself  that  would  be 
a  sucking  infant  to  this  hour !  " 

"  Well,  I  like  to  hear  you  talk  so  manly  ;  you  and  I 
must  be  better  acquainted,  if  it  were  only  for  your  grand 
father's  sake.  But,  Jack,  that  father  of  yours  was  not 
the  thing  !  he  had  no  head  at  all." 

"  I'm  sure,"  said  Jack,  "  since  your  honor  lives  down 
under  the  water,  you  must  be  obliged  to  drink  a  power  to 
keep  any  heat  in  you  in  such  a  cruel,  damp,  could  place. 
Well,  I've  often  heard  of  Christians  drinking  like  fishes  ; 
and  might  I  be  so  bold  as  ask  where  you  get  the 
spirits  ?  " 

"  Where  do  you  get  them  yourself,  Jack  ?  "  said  the 
Merrow,  twitching  his  red  nose  between  his  forefinger 
and  thumb. 

"  Hubbubboo,"  cries  Jack,  "  now  I  see  how  it  is  ;  but  I 
suppose,  sir,  your  honor  has  got  a  fine  dry  cellar  below 
to  keep  them  in." 

"  Let  me  alone  for  the  cellar,"  said  the  Merrow,  with  a 
knowing  wink  of  his  left  eye. 

"  I'm  sure,"  continued  Jack,  "  it  must  be  mighty  well 
worth  the  looking  at." 

"  You  may  say  that,  Jack,"  said  the  Merrow  ;  "  and  if 
you  meet  me  here  next  Monday,  just  at  this  time  of  the 
day,  we  will  have  a  little  more  talk  with  one  another 
about  the  matter." 

Jack  and  the  Merrow  parted  the  best  friends  in  the 


THE  MERKOW.  99 

World.  On  Monday  they  met,  and  Jack  was  not  a  little 
surprised  to  see  that  the  Morrow  had  two  cocked  hats 
with  him,  one  under  each  arm. 

"Might  I  take  the  liberty  to  ask,  sir,"  said  Jack,  "why 
your  honor  has  brought  the  two  hats  with  you  to  day  ? 
You  would  not,  sure,  be  going  to  give  me  one  of  them,  to 
keep  for  the  r///W'/Vy  of  the  thing  ?  " 

"Xo,  no,  Jack,'1  said  he,  k>  I  don't  get  my  hats  so  easily, 
to  part  with  them  that  way  ;  but  I  want  you  to  come 
down  and  diue  with  me,  and  I  brought  you  the  hat  to 
dine  with." 

"Lord  bless  and  preserve  us!"  cried  Jack,  in  amaze 
ment,  "would  you  want  me  to  go  down  to  the  bottom  of 
the  suit  sea  ocean:'  Sure,  Fd  bo  smothered  and  choked 
up  with  the  water,  to  say  nothing  of  being  drowned  ! 
And  what  would  poor  Biddy  do  for  me,  and  what  would 
she  say  ?  " 

"  And  what  matter  what  she  says,  you  //////•/»•>//  Who 
cares  for  Biddy's  squalling?  It's  long  before  your  grand 
father  would  have  talked  in  that  way.  Many's  the  time 
he  stuck  that  same  hat  on  his  head,  and  dived  down 
boldly  after  me;  and  many's  the  snug  bit  of  dinner  and 
good  shellful  of  brandy  he  and  I  have  had  together  below, 
under  the  water." 

"Is  it  really,  sir,  and  no  joke?"  said  Jack;  "why, 
then,  sorrow  from  me  for  ever  and  a  day  after,  if  Fll  be  a 
bit  worse  man  norm}"  grandfather  was!  Here  goes — but 
play  me  fair  now.  Here's  neck  or  nothing!"  cried 
Jack. 

"  That's  your  grandfather  all  over,"  said  the  old  fellow  ; 
"  so  come  along,  then,  and  do  as  I  do." 

They  both  left  the  cave,  walked  into  the  sea,  and  then 
swam  a  piece  until  they  got  to  the  rock.  The  Morrow 
climbed  to  the  top  of  it,  and  Jack  followed  him.  On  the 
far  side  it  was  as  straight  as  the  wall  of  a  house,  and  the 
sea  beneath  looked  so  deep  that  Jack  was  almost  cowed. 

"  Xow,  do  you  see,  Jack,"  said  the  Merrow  :  "just  put 
this  hat  on  your  head,  and  mind  to  keep  your  eyes  wide 


100  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

open.  Take  hold  of  my  tail,  and  follow  after  me,  and 
you'll  see  what  you'll  see." 

In  he  dashed,  and  in  dashed  Jack  after  him  boldly. 
They  went  and  they  went,  and  Jack  thought  they'd  never 
stop  going.  Many  a  time  did  he  wish  himself  sitting  at 
home  by  the  fireside  with  Biddy.  Yet  where  was  the  use 
of  wishing  now,  when  he  was  so  many  miles,  as  he  thought, 
below  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  ?  Still  he  held  hard  by 
the  Merrow's  tail,  slippery  as  it  was ;  and,  at  last,  to 
Jack's  great  surprise,  they  got  out  of  the  water,  and  he 
actually  found  himself  on  dry  land  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea.  They  landed  just  in  front  of  a  nice  house  that  was 
slated  very  neatly  with  oyster  shells !  and  the  Merrow, 
turning  about  to  Jack,  welcomed  him  down. 

Jack  could  hardly  speak,  Avhat  with  wonder,  and  what 
with  being  out  of  breath  with  traveling  so  fast  through 
the  water.  He  looked  about  him  and  could  see  no  living 
things,  barring  crabs  and  lobsters,  of  which  there  were 
plenty  walking  leisurely  about  on  the  sand.  Overhead 
was  the  sea  like  a  sky,  and  the  fishes  like  birds  swimming 
about  in  it. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak,  man  ?  "  said  the  Merrow  :  "  I 
dare  say  you  had  no  notion  that  I  had  such  a  snug  little 
concern  here  as  this  ?  Are  you  smothered,  or  choked,  or 
drowned,  or  are  you  fretting  after  Biddy,  eh '? " 

"  Oh  !  not  myself,  indeed,"  said  Jack,  showing  his  teeth 
with  a  good-humored  grin  ;  "  but  who  in  the  world  would 
ever  have  thought  of  seeing  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Well,  come  along,  and  let's  see  what  they've  got  for 
us  to  eat?" 

Jack  really  was  hungry,  and  it  gave  him  no  small 
pleasure  to  perceive  a  fine  column  of  smoke  rising  from 
the  chimney,  announcing  what  was  going  on  within. 
Into  the  house  he  followed  the  Merrow,  and  there  he  saw 
a  good  kitchen,  right  well  provided  with  everything. 
There  was  a  noble  dresser,  and  plenty  of  pots  and  pans, 
with  two  young  Merrows  cooking.  His  host  then  led  him 
into  the  room,  which  was  furnished  shabbily  enough.  Not 


THK  MERKOW. 

a  table  or  a  chair  was  there1  in  it  ;  nothing  but  planks  and 
logs  of  wood  to  sit  on,  and  eat  off/  l  r|  berr  was,  however, 
a  good  fire  blazing  upon  the  hearth  a,  comfortable  sight 
to  Jack. 

"Come  now,  and  I'll  show  you  where  I  keep — you 
know  what,"  said  the  Merrow,  with  a  sly  look  ;  and  open 
ing  a  little  door,  he  led  Jack  into  a  fine  cellar,  well  filled 
with  pipes,  and  kegs,  and  hogsheads,  and  barrels. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Jack  Dogherty?  Eh!  may 
be  a  body  can't  live  snug  under  the  water?" 

"  Never  the  doubt  of  that,"  said  Jack,  with  a  convinc 
ing  smack  of  his  under  lip,  that  he  really  thought  what 
he  said. 

They  went  back  to  the  room,  and  found  dinner  laid. 
There  was  no  tablecloth,  to  be  sure — but  what  mat 
ter?  It  was  not  always  Jaek  had  one  at  home.  The 
dinner  would  have  been  no  discredit  to  the  first  house  of 
the  country  on  a  fast  day.  The  choicest  of  fish,  and  no 
wonder,  was  there.  Turbots,  and  sturgeons,  and  soles, 
and  lobsters,  and  oysters,  and  twenty  other  kinds,  were 
on  the  planks  at  once,  and  plenty  of  the  best  of  foreign 
spirits.  The  wines,  the  old  fellow  said,  were  too  cold  for 
his  stomach. 

.lack  ate  and  drank  till  he  could  eat  no  more  :  then, 
taking  up  a  shell  of  brandy,  "  Here's  to  your  honor's  good 
health,  sir,"  said  he;  "though,  begging  your  pardon,  it's 
mighty  odd  that  as  long  as  we've  been  acquainted  I  don't 
know  your  name  yet." 

u  That's  true,  Jack,"  replied  he  ;  "I  never  thought  of 
it  before,  but  better  late  than  never.  My  name's 
Coomara." 

"And  a  mighty  decent  name  it  is,"  cried  Jack,  taking 
another  shellful :  "  here's  to  your  good  health,  Coomara, 
and  may  ye  live  fifty  years  to  come ! " 

"  Fifty  years  !  "  repeated  Coomara  ;  "  I'm  obliged  to 
you,  indeed  !  If  you  had  said  five  hundred,  it  would  have, 
been  something  worth  the  wishing." 

u  By  the  laws,  sir,"  cries  Jack,  " yoiiz -live  to  a  powerful 


102  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

age  here  under  the  watev  !  You  knew  my  grandfather, 
and  he's  dead  and  gone  better  than  these  sixty  years.  I'm 
sure- it  .must  be  a  healthy  prlace  to  live  in." 

"•  No  doubt •oi'*it$.fo&frcome,  Jack,  keep  the  liquor  stir 
ring." 

Shell  after  shell  did  they  empty,  and  to  Jack's  exceed 
ing  surprise,  he  found  the  drink  never  got  into  his  heat 
owing,  I  suppose,  to  the  sea  being  over  them,  which  kep, 
their  noddles  cool. 

Old  Coomara  got  exceedingly  comfortable,  and  sung 
several  songs ;  but  Jack,  if  his  life  had  depended  on  it, 
never  could  remember  more  than 

"  Rum  fum  boodle  boo, 
Ripple  dipple  nitty  dob  ; 

Dumdoo  doodle  coo, 
Raffle  taffle  chittiboo  !  " 

It  was  the  chorus  to  one  of  them  ;  and,  to  say  the  truth, 
nobody  that  I  know  has  ever  been  able  to  pick  any  par 
ticular  meaning  out  of  it ;  but  that,  to  be  sure,  is  the  case 
with  many  a  song  nowadays. 

At  length  said  he  to  Jack,  "  Xow,  my  dear  boy,  if  you 
follow  me,  I'll  show  you  my  curiosities  !  "  He  opened  a 
little  door,  and  led  Jack  into  a  large  room,  where  Jack 
saw  a  great  many  odds  and  ends  that  Coomara  had  picked 
up  at  one  time  or  another.  What  chiefly  took  his  atten 
tion,  however,  were  things  like  lobster-pots  ranged  on  the 
ground  along  the  wall. 

"  Well,  Jack,  how  do  you  like  my  curiosities  ?  "  said  old 
Coo. 

"  Upon  my  sowkins*  sir,"  said  Jack,  "  they're  mighty 
well  worth  the  looking  at ;  but  might  I  make  so  bold  as 
to  ask  what  these  things  like  lobster-pots  are  ?  " 

"  Oh !  the  Soul  Cages,  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  what  ?  sir  ! " 

"  These  things  here  that  I  keep  the  souls  in." 

*  Sowkins,  diminutive  of  soul. 


THE  MERKOW.  jo;> 

"  An-'i/i!  what  souls,  sir  ?"  said  Jack,  in  amazement; 
"sure  tin-  fish  have  no  souls  in  them." 

"Oh!  no,"  replied  Too,  quite  coolly,  "that  they  have 
not  ;  lull  these  are  the  souls  of  drowned  sailors." 

"  The  Lord  preserve  us  from  all  harm  !  "  muttered 
Jack,  "how  in  the  world  did  you  get  them?" 

"  Easily  enough  :  I've  only,  when  I  see  a  good  storm 
coming  on,  to  set  a  couple  of  do/en  of  these,  and  then,  when 
the  sailors  are  drowned  and  the  souls  get  out  of  them 
under  the  water,  the  poor  things  are  almost  perished  to 
death,  not  heing  used  to  the  cold  ;  so  they  make  into  my 
pots  for  shelter,  and  then  I  have  them  snug,  and  fetch 
them  home,  and  keep  them  here  dry  and  warm;  and  is  it 
not  well  for  them,  poor  souls,  to  get  into  such  good 
quarters  ?  " 

Jack  was  so  thunderstruck  lie  did  not  know  what  to 
say,  so  he  said  not hing.  They  went  back  into  the  (lining- 
room,  and  had  a  little  more  brandy,  which  was  excellent, 
and  then,  as  Jack  knew  that  it  must  be  getting  late,  and 
as  Kiddy  might  be  uneasy,  he  stood  up,  and  said  lie 
thought  it  was  time  for  him  to  be  on  the  road. 

"Just  as  you  like.  Jack,"  said  Coo,  "but  take  a  ili«'tin 
durrus*  before  you  go;  you've,  a  cold  journev  before  vou.'1 

Jack  knew  better  manners  than  to  refuse  the  parting 
glass.  "I  wonder,"  said  he,  *»  will  \  be  able  to  make  out 
my  way  home  r1  " 

"What  should  ail  you,"  said  Coo,  "  when  Til  show  you 
the  way  ?  " 

Out  they  went  before  the  house,  and  Coomara  took  one 
of  the  cocked  hats,  and  put  it  upon  Jack's  head  the  wrong 
way,  and  then  lifted  him  up  on  his  shoulder  that  he  might 
launch  him  up  into  the  water. 

"Xow,"  says  he,  giving  him  a  heave,  "you'll  come  up 
just  in  the  same  spot  yon  came  down  in  ;  and,  Jack,  mind 
and  throw  me  back  the  hat." 

He  canted  Jack  off  his   shoulder,  and  up  he   shot   like 

*  Recte,  deoch  an  dorrus— door-drink  or  stirrup-cup. 


10-4  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

a  bubble — whirr,  whirr,  whiz — away  he  went  up  through 
the  water,  till  he  came  to  the  very  rock  he  had  jumped 
off,  where  he  found  a  landing-place,  and  then  in  he  threw 
the  hat,  which  sunk  like  a  stone. 

The  sun  was  just  going  down  in  the  beautiful  sky  of  a 
calm  summer's  evening.  Feascor  was  seen  dimly  twink 
ling  in  the  cloudless  heaven,  a  solitary  star,  and  the  waves 
of  the  Atlantic  flashed  in  a  golden  flood  of  light.  So  Jack, 
perceiving  it  was  late,  set  off  home  ;  but  when  he  got 
there,  not  a  word  did  he  say  to  Biddy  of  where  he  had 
spent  his  day. 

The  state  of  the  poor  souls  cooped  up  in  the  lobster-pots 
gave  Jack  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  how  to  release  them 
cost  him  a  great  deal  of  thought.  lie  at  first  had  a1  mind 
to  speak  to  the  priest  about  the  matter.  But  what  could 
the  priest  do,  and  what  did  Coo  care  for  the  priest  ?  Be 
sides,  Coo  was  a  good  sort  of  an  old  fellow,  and  did  not 
think  he  was  doing  any  harm.  Jack  had  a  regard  for 
him,  too,  and  it  also  might  not  be  much  to  his  own  credit 
if  it  were  known  that  he  used  to  go  dine  with  Merrows, 
On  the  whole,  he  thought  his  best  plan  would  be  to  ask 
Coo  to  dinner,  and  to  make  him  drunk,  if  he  was  able, 
and  then  to  take  the  hat  and  go  down  and  turn  up  the 
pots.  It  was,  first  of  all,  necessary,  however,  to  get 
Biddy  out  of  the  way  ;  for  Jack  was  prudent  enough,  as 
she  was  a  woman,  to  Avish  to  keep  the  thing  secret  from  her. 

Accordingly,  Jack  grew  mighty  pious  all  of  a  sudden, 
and  said  to  Biddy  that  he  thought  it  would  be  for  the 
good  of  both  their  souls  if  she  was  to  go  and  take  her 
rounds  at  Saint  John's  Well,  near  Ennis.  Biddy  thought 
so  too,  and  accordingly  off  she  set  one  fine  morning  at 
day-dawn,  giving  Jack  a  strict  charge  to  have  an  eye  to 
the  place.  The  coast  being  clear,  away  went  Jack  to  the 
rock  to  give  the  appointed  signal  to  Coomara,  which  was 
throwing  a  big  stone  into  the  water.  Jack  threw,  and  up 
sprang  Coo! 

"  Good  morning,  Jack,"  said  he ;  "  what  do  you  want 
with  me  ? ' 


THE  MERKOW.  lor, 

"Just  nothing  at  all  to  speak  about,  sir,"  returned  Jack, 
"  only  to  come  and  take  a  bit  of  dinner  with  me,  if  I  might 
make  so  free  as  to  ask  you,  and  sure  I'm  now  after  doing 
so." 

"It's  quite  agreeable,  Jack,  I  assure  you  ;  what's  your 
hour?" 

"Any  time  that's  most  convenient  to  you,  sir — say  one 
o'clock,  that  vou  may  go  home1,  if  you  wish,  with  the 
daylight." 

"I'll  be,  with  you,"  said  Coo,  "never  fear  me," 

Jack  went  home,  and  dressed  a  noble  fish  dinner,  and 
got  out  plenty  of  his  best  foreign  spirits,  enough,  for  (hat 
matter,  to  make  twenty  men  drunk.  Just  to  the  minute 
came  Coo,  with  his  cocked  hat  under  his  arm.  Dinner 
was  ready,  they  sat  down,  and  ate  and  drank  awav  man 
fully.  Jack,  thinking  of  the  poor  souls  below  in  the  pots, 
plied  old  Coo  well  with  brandy,  and  encouraged  him  to 
sing,  hoping  to  put  him  under  the  table,  but  poor  Jack 
forgot  that  he  had  not  the'  sea  over  his  own  head  to  keep 
it  cool.  The  brandy  got  into  it,  and  did  his  business  for 
him,  and  Coo  reeled  off  home,  leaving  his  entertainer  as 
dumb  as  a  haddock  on  a  (4ood  Friday. 

Jack  never  woke  till  the  next  morning,  and  then  IK;  was 
in  a  sad  way.  "  Tis  to  no  use  for  me  thinking  to  make 
that  old  Rapparee  drunk,"  said  Jack,  "and  how  in  this 
world  can  I  help  the  poor  souls  out  of  the  lobster-pots?" 
After  ruminating  nearly  the  whole  day,  a  thought  struck 
him.  "I  have  it,"  says  he,  slapping  his  knee;  "I'll  be 
sworn  that  Coo  never  saw  a  drop  of  jtotev)!,  as  old  as  he 
is,  and  that's  the  thiny  to  settle  him  !  Oh  !  then,  is  not  it 
well  that  Biddy  will  not  be  home  these  two  days  yet ;  I 
can  have  another  twist  at  him." 

Jack  asked  Coo  again,  and  Coo  laughed  at  him  for 
having  no  better  head,  telling  him  he'd  never  come  up  to 
his  grandfather. 

"Well,  but  try  me  again,"  said  Jack,  "and  I'll  be  bail 
to  drink  you  drunk  and  sober,  and  drunk  again." 

"Anything  in  my  power,"  said  Coo,  "to  oblige  you." 


106  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

At  this  dinner  Jack  took  care  to  have  his  own  liquor 
well  watered,  and  to  give  the  strongest  brandy  he  had  to 
Coo.  At  last  says  he,  "  Pray,  sir,  did  you  ever  drink  any 
poteen? — any  real  mountain  clew?" 

"  No,"  says  Coo  ;  "  what's  that,  and  where  does  it  come 
from?" 

u  ( )li,  that's  a  secret,"  said  Jack, "  but  it's  the  right  stuff 
—never  believe  me  again,  if  'tis  not  fifty  times  as  good  as 
brandy  or  rum  either.  Biddy's  brother  just  sent  me  a 
present  of  a  little  drop,  in  exchange  for  some  brandy,  and 
us  you're  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  I  kept  it  to  treat 
you  with." 

"  Well,  let's  see  what  sort  of  thing  it  is,"  said  Coomara. 

The  poteen  was  the  right  sort.  It  was  first- rate,  and 
had  the  real  smack  upon  it.  Coo  was  delighted :  he  drank 
and  he  sung  Hum  bum,  boodle  boo  over  and  over  again ; 
and  he  laughed  and  he  danced,  till  he  fell  on  the  floor 
fast  asleep.  Then  Jack,  who  hud  taken  good  care  to  keep 
himself  sober,  snapt  up  the  cocked  hat — ran  off  to  the 
rock — leaped  in,  and  soon  arrived  at  Coo's  habitation. 

All  was  as  still  as  a  churchyard  at  midnight — not  a 
Morrow,  old  or  young,  was  there.  In  he  went  and  turned 
up  the  pots,  but  nothing  did  he  see,  only  he  heard  a  sort 
of  a  little  whistle  or  chirp  as  he  raised  each  of  them.  At 
this  he  was  surprised,  till  he  recollected  what  the  priests 
had  often  said,  that  nobody  living  could  see  the  soul,  no 
more  than  they  could  see  the  wind  or  the  air.  Having 
now  done  all  that  he  could  do  for  them,  he  set  the  pots 
as  they  were  before,  and  sent  a  blessing  after  the  poor 
souls  to  speed  them  on  their  journey  wherever  they  were 
going.  Jack  now  began  to  think  of  returning;  he  put 
the  hat  on,  as  was  right,  the  wrong  way  ;  but  when  he 
got  out  he  found  the  water  so  high  over  his  head  that  he 
had  no  hopes  of  ever  getting  up  into  it,  now  that  he  had 
not  old  Coomara  to  give  him  a  lift.  He  walked  about 
looking  for  a  ladder,  but  not  one  could  he  find,  and  not  a 
rock  was  there  in  sight.  At  last  he  saw  a  spot  where  the 
sea  hung  rather  lower  than  anywhere  else,  so  he  resolved 


THE  MERKOW.  107 

to  try  there.  Just  as  he  came  to  it,  a  big  cod  happened 
to  put  down  his  tail.  Jack  made  a  jump  and  caught  hold 
of  it,  and  the  cod,  all  in  amazement,  gave  a  bounce  and 
pulled  Jack  up.  The  minute  the  hat  touched  the  water 
away  Jack  was  whisked,  and  up  he  shot  like  a  cork,  drag 
ging  the  poor  cod,  that  he  forgot  to  let  go,  up  with  him 
tail  foremost,  lie  got  to  the  rock  in  no  time, and  without 
a  moment's  delay  hurried  home,  rejoicing  in  the  good 
deed  he  had  done. 

Hut,  meanwhile,  there  was  tine  work  at  home;  for  our 
friend  Jack  had  hardly  left  the  house  on  his  soul-freeing 
expedition,  when  back  came  Biddy  from  her  soul-saving 
one  to  the  well.  When  she  entered  the  house  and  saw 
the  things  lying  thrie-na-helah*  on  the  table  before  her — 
"Here's  a  pretty  job!"  said  she;  "that  blackguard  of 
mine — what  ill-luck  I  had  ever  to  marry  him  !  lie  has 
picked  up  some  vagabond  or  other,  while  I  was  praying 
for  the  good  of  his  soul,  and  they've  been  drinking  all  the 
l><>t<-< n  that  my  own  brother  gave  him,  and  all  the  spirits, 
to  be  sure1,  that  he  was  to  have?  sold  to  his  honor."  Then 
hearing  an  outlandish  kind  of  a  grunt,  she  looked  down, 
and  saw  Coomara  lying  under  the  table.  "The  blessed 
Virgin  help  me,"  shouted  she,  "  if  he  has  not  made  a  real 
beast  of  himself!  Well,  well,  I've  often  heard  of  a  man 
making  a  beast  of  himself  with  drink  !  Oh  hone,  oh 
hone  ! — Jack,  honey,  what  will  I  do  with  you,  or  what 
will  I  do  Avithout  you?  How  can  any  decent  woman 
ever  think  of  living  with  a  beast?" 

With  such  like  lamentations  Biddy  rushed  out  of  the 
bouse,  and  was  going  she  knew  not  where,  when  she  heard 
the  well-known  voice  of  Jack  singing  a  merry  tune.  Glad 
enough  was  Biddy  to  find  him  safe  and  sound,  and  not 
turned  into  a  thing  that  was  like  neither  fish  nor  flesh. 
Jack  was  obliged  to  tell  her  all,  and  Biddy,  though  she 
had  half  a  mind  to  be  angry  with  him  for  not  telling  her 
before,  owned  that  he  had  done  a  great  service  to  th^ 

*  Tri-na-clieilc,  literally  through  other — i.?. ,  higgledy-piggledy. 


108  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

poor  souls.  Back  they  both  went  most  lovingly  to  the 
house,  and  Jack  wakened  up  Coomara ;  and,  perceiving 
the  old  fellow  to  be  rather  dull,  he  bid  him  not  to  be  cast 
down,  for  'twas  many  a  good  man's  case  ;  said  it  all  came 
of  his  not  being  used  to  the  poteen,  and  recommended  him, 
by  way  of  cure,  to  swallow  a  hair  of  the  dog  that  bit  him. 
Coo,  however,  seemed  to  think  he  had  had  quite  enough. 
He  got  up,  quite  out  of  sorts,  and  without  having  the 
manners  to  say  one  word  in  the  way  of  civility,  he  sneaked 
off  to  cool  himself  by  a  jaunt  through  the  salt  water. 

Coomara  never  missed  the  souls.  He  and  Jack  con 
tinued  the  best  friends  in  the  world,  and  no  one,  perhaps, 
ever  equalled  Jack  for  freeing  souls  from  purgatory ;  for 
he  contrived  fifty  excuses  for  getting  into  the  house  below 
the  sea,  unknown  to  the  old  fellow,  and  then  turning  up 
the  pots  and  letting  out  the  souls.  It  vexed  him,  to  be 
sure,  that  he  could  never  see  them  ;  but  as  he  knew  the 
thing  to  be  impossible,  he  was  obliged  to  be  satisfied. 

Their  intercourse  continued  for  several  years.  How 
ever,  one  morning,  on  Jack's  throwing  in  a  stone  as  usual, 
he  got  no  answer.  He  flung  another,  and  another,  still 
there  was  no  reply.  He  went  away,  and  returned  the  fol 
lowing  morning,  but  it  was  to  no  purpose.  As  he  was 
without  the  hat,  he  could  not  go  down  to  see  what  hart 
become  of  old  Coo,  but  his  belief  was,  that  the  old  man,  or 
the  old  fish,  or  whatever  he  was,  had  either  died,  or  had 
removed  from  that  part  of  the  country. 


FLORY   CANTILLOX'S   FUNERAL. 

T.     <  KOFTON     i  KOKKK. 

THE  ancient  burial-place  of  the  Cantillon  family  was 
on  an  island  in  Ballyheigb  Bay.  This  island  was  situated 
at  no  great  distance  from  the  shove,  and  a<  a  remote  period 
was  overflowed  in  one  of  the  encroachments  which  the 
Atlantic  has  made  on  that  part  of  the  coast  of  Kerry. 


FLORY  CAXTILLON'S  FUNERAL.  ji»0 

The  fishermen  declare  they  have  often  seen  the  ruined 
walls  of  an  old  chapel  beneath  them  in  the  water,  as  they 
sailed  over  the  clear  green  sea  of  a  sunny  afternoon. 
However  this  may  be,  it  is  well-known  that  the  Cantillons 
were,  like  most  other  Irish  families,  strongly  attached  to 
their  ancient  burial-place;  and  this  attachment  led  to  the 
custom,  when  any  of  the  family  died,  of  carrying  the 
corpse  to  the  sea-side,  where  the  coffin  was  left  on  the 
shore  within  reach  of  the  tide.  In  the  morning  it  had 
disappeared,  being,  as  was  traditionally  believed,  conveyed 
away  by  the  ancestors  of  the  deceased  to  their  family 
tomb. 

Connor  Crowe,  a  county  Clare  man,  was  related  to  the 
Cantillons  by  marriage.  "Connor  Mac  in  Cruagh,  <J  the 
seven  quarters  of  Breintragh,"  as  he  was  commonly  called, 
and  a  proud  man  he  was  of  the  name.  Connor,  be  it 
known,  would  drink  a  quart  of  salt  water,  for  its  medi 
cinal  virtues,  before  breakfast;  and  for  the  same  reason,  I 
suppose,  double  that  quantity  of  raw  whisky  between 
breakfast  and  night,  which  last  he  did  with  as  little  in 
convenience-  to  himself  as  any  man  iu  the  barony  of 
Moyferta  ;  and  were  I  to  add  Clanderalaw  and  Ibrickan, 
I  don't  think  I  should  say  wrong. 

On  the  death  of  Florence  Cantillon,  Connor  Crowe  was 
determined  to  satisfy  himself  about  the  truth  of  this  story 
of  the  old  church  under  the  sea  :  so  when  he  heard  the 
news  of  the  old  fellow's  death,  away  with  him  to  Ardfert, 
where  Flory  was  laid  out  in  high  style,  and  a  beautiful 
corpse  he  made. 

Flory  had  been  as  jolly  and  as  rollicking  a  boy  in  his 
day  as  ever  was  stretched,  and  his  wake  was  in  every  re 
spect  worthy  of  him.  There  was  all  kind  of  entertainment, 
and  all  sort  of  diversion  at  it,  and  no  less  than  three  girls 
got  husbands  there  -more  luck  to  them.  Kwrything 
was  as  it  should  be;  all  that  side  of  the  country,  from 
Dingle  to  Tarbert.  Avas  al  tb<->  funeral.  The  Keen  was 
sung  long  and  bitterly;  nnrl.  according  to  the  family  cus 
tom,  the  coffin  was  carried  to  Bnllyheigh  ?U'anrl,  where  it 


1 1 0  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

v/as  laid  upon  the  shore,  with  a  prayer  for  the  repose  of 
the  dead. 

The  mourners  departed,  one  group  after  another,  and  at 
last  Connor  Crowe  was  left  alone.  He  then  pulled  out 
his  whisky  bottle,  his  drop  of  comfort,  as  he  called  it, 
which  he  required,  being  in  grief ;  and  down  he  sat  upon 
a  big  stone  that  was  sheltered  by  a  projecting  rock,  and 
partly  concealed  from  view,  to  await  with  patience  the 
appearance  of  the  ghostly  undertakers. 

The  evening  came  on  mild  and  beautiful.  He  whistled 
an  old  air  which  he  had  heard  in  his  childhood,  hoping  to 
keep  idle  fears  out  of  his  head ;  but  the  wild  strain  of 
that  melody  brought  a  thousand  recollections  with  it, 
which  only  made  the  twilight  appear  more  pensive. 

"  If  'twas  near  the  gloomy  tower  of  Dunmore,  in  my 
own  sweet  country,  I  was,"  said  Connor  Crowe,  with  a 
sigh,  "  one  might  well  believe  that  the  prisoners,  who 
were  murdered  long  ago  there  in  the  vaults  under  the 
castle,  would  be  the  hands  to  carry  off  the  coffin  out  of 
envy,  for  never  a  one  of  them  was  buried  decently,  nor 
had  as  much  as  a  coffin  amongst  them  all.  'Tis  often, 
sure  enough,  I  have  heard  lamentations  and  great  mourn 
ing  coming  from  the  vaults  of  Dunmore  Castle ;  but," 
continued  he,  after  fondly  pressing  his  lips  to  the  mouth 
of  his  companion  and  silent  comforter,  the  whisky  bottle, 
"  didn't  I  know  all  the  time  well  enough,  'twas  the  dismal 
sounding  waves  working  through  the  cliffs  and  hollows  of 
the  rocks,  and  fretting  themselves  to  foam.  Oh,  then, 
Dunmore  Castle,  it  is  you  that  are  the  gloomy -looking 
tower  on  a  gloomy  day,  with  the  gloomy  hills  behind  you  ; 
when  one  has  gloomy  thoughts  on  their  heart,  and  sees 
you  like  a  ghost  rising  out  of  the  smoke  made  by  the  kelp 
burners  on  the  strand,  there  is,  the  Lord  save  us  !  as  fear 
ful  a  look  about  you  as  about  the  Blue  Man's  Lake  at 
midnight.  Well,  then,  anyhow,"  said  Connor,  after  a 
pause,  "  is  it  not  a  blessed  night,  though  surely  the  moon 
looks  mighty  pale  in  the  face  ?  St.  Senan  himself  between 
us  and  all  kinds  of  harm." 


FLORY  CANTILLON'S  FUNERAL. 

It  was,  in  truth,  a  lovely  moonlight  night  ;  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  around  but  the  dark  rocks,  and  the  white 
pebbly  beach,  upon  which  the  sea  broke  with  a  hoarse  and 
melancholy  murmur.  Connor,  notwithstanding  his  fre 
quent  draughts,  felt  rather  queerish,  and  almost  began  to 
repent  his  curiosity.  It  was  certainly  a  solemn  sight  to 
behold  the  black  coffin  resting  upon  the  white  strand. 
His  imagination  gradually  converted  the  deep  moaning  of 
old  ocean  into  a  mournful  wail  for  the  dead,  and  from  the 
shadowy  recesses  of  the  rocks  he  imaged  forth  strange 
and  visionary  forms. 

As  the  night  advanced,  Connor  became  weary  with  watch 
ing.  He  caught  himself  more  than  once  in  the  act  of  nod 
ding,  when  suddenly  giving  his  head  a  shake,  he  would 
look  towards  the  black  coffin.  But  the  narrow  house  of 
death  remained  unmoved  before  him. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  and  the  moon  was  sinking 
into  the  sea,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  many  voices, 
which  gradually  became  stronger,  above  the  heavy  and 
monotonous  roll  of  the  sea.  He  listened,  and  presently 
could  distinguish  a  Keen  of  exquisite,  sweetness,  the  notes 
of  which  rose  and  fell  with  the  heaving  of  the  waves, 
whose  deep  murmur  mingled  with  and  supported  the 
strain ! 

The  Keen  grew  louder  and  louder,  and  seemed  to  ap 
proach  the  beach,  and  then  fell  into  a  low,  plaintive  wail. 
As  it  ended  Connor  beheld  a  number  of  strange  and,  in 
the  dim  light,  mysterious-looking  figures  emerge  from  the 
sea,  and  surround  the  coffin,  which  they  prepared  to 
launch  into  the  water. 

"  This  comes  of  marrying  with  the  creatures  of 
earth,"  said  one  of  the  figures,  in  a  clear,  yet  hollow 
tone. 

"  True,"  replied  another,  with  a  voice  still  more  fearful, 
"  our  king  would  never  have  commanded  his  gnawing 
white-toothed  waves  to  devour  the  rocky  roots  of  the  isl 
and  cemetery,  had  not  his  daughter,  Durfulla,  been  buried 
there  by  her  mortal  husband !  " 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  But  the  time  will  come,"  said  a  third  bending  over  the 
coffin, 

"  When  mortal  eye — our  work  shall  spy, 
And  mortal  ear — our  dirge  shall  hear." 

"  Then,"  said  a  fourth,  "  our  burial  of  the  Cantillons  is 
at  an  end  forever  !  " 

As  this  was  spoken  the  coffin  was  borne  from  the  beach 
by  a  retiring  wave,  and  the  company  of  sea  people  pre 
pared  to  follow  it ;  but  at  the  moment  one  chanced  to 
discover  Connor  Crowe,  as  fixed  with  wonder  and  as 
motionless  with  fear  as  the  stone  on  which  he  sat. 

"  The  time  is  come,"  cried  the  unearthly  being,  "  the 
time  is  come ;  a  human  eye  looks  on  the  forms  of  ocean, 
a  human  ear  has  heard  their  voices.  Farewell  to  the 
Cantillions ;  the  sons  of  the  sea  are  no  longer  doomed  to 
bury  the  dust  of  the  earth !  " 

One  after  the  other  turned  slowly  round,  and  regarded 
Connor  Crowe,  who  still  remained  as  if  bound  by  a  spell. 
Again  arose  their  funeral  song;  and  on  the  next  wave 
they  followed  the  coffin.  The  sound  of  the  lamentation 
died  away,  and  at  length  nothing  was  heard  but  the  rush 
of  waters.  The  coffin  and  the  train  of  sea  people  sank 
over  the  old  churchyard,  and  never  since  the  funeral  of 
old  Flory  Cantillon  have  any  of  the  family  been  carried 
to  the  strand  of  Bally  heigh,  for  conveyance  to  their  right 
ful  burial-place,  beneath  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic. 


THE  GRKEK  PRINCESS  AND  THE  YOUNG 
GARDENER. 

TIIKKK  was  once  a  king,  but  I  didn't  bear  what  country 
lie  was  over,  and  be  bad  one  very  beautiful  daughter. 
Well,  lie  was  getting  old  and  sickly,  and  the  doctors 
found  out  that  the  finest  medicine  in  the  world  for  him 
was  the  apples  of  a  tree  that  grew  in  the  orchard  just 
under  his  window.  So  yon  may  be  sure  he  bad  the  tree, 
well  minded,  and  used  to  get  the  apples  counted  from 
tin*  time  they  were  the  si/e  of  small  marbles.  One 
harvest,  just  as  they  were  beginning  to  turn  ripe,  the 
king  was  awakened  one  night  by  the  flapping  of  wings 
outside  in  the  orchard  ;  and  when  he  looked  out,  what  did 
be  see  but  a  bird  among  the  branches  of  his  tree.  Us 
feathers  were  so  bright  that  they  made  a  light  all  round 
them,  and  the  minute  it  saw  the  king  in  his  night-cap 
and  night-shirt  it  picked  off  an  apple,  and  Hew  away. 
"Oh,  botheration  to  that  thief  of  a  gardener !"  says  the 
king,  k>  this  is  a  nice  way  he's  watching  my  precious  fruit." 

lie  didn't  sleep  a  wink  the  rest  of  the  night;  and  as 
soon  as  any  one  was  stirring  in  the  palace,  he  sent  for  the 
gardener,  and  abused  him  for  his  neglect. 

"Please  your  Majesty!"  says  lie,  "not  another  apple, 
you  shall  lose.  My  three  sons  are  the  best  shots  at  the 
bow  and  arrow  in  the  kingdom,  and  they  and  myself  will 
watch  in  turn  every  night." 

When  the  night  came,  the  gardener's  eldest  son  took 
his  post  in  the  garden,  with  his  bow  strung  and  his  arrow 
between  his  fingers,  and  watched,  and  watched.  Jiut  at 
the  dead  hour,  the  king,  that  was  wide  awake,  heard  the 
flapping  of  wings,  and  ran  to  the  window.  There  was  the 

113 


114:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

bright  bird  in  the  tree,  and  the  boy  fast  asleep,  sitting 
with  his  back  to  the  wall,  and  his  bow  on  his  lap. 

"  Rise,  you  lazy  thief !  "  says  the  king,  "  there's  the  bird 
again,  botheration  to  her  !  " 

Up  jumped  the  poor  fellow ;  but  while  he  was  fum 
bling  with  the  arrow  and  the  string,  away  was  the  bird 
with  the  nicest  apple  on  the  tree.  "Well,  to  oe  sure,  how 
the  king  fumed  and  fretted,  and  how  he  abused  the 
gardener  and  the  boy,  and  what  a  twenty-four  hours  he 
spent  till  midnight  came  again  ! 

He  had  his  eye  this  time  on  the  second  son  of  the 
gardener ;  but  though  he  was  up  and  lively  enough  when 
the  clock  began  to  strike  twelve,  it  wasn't  done  with  the 
last  bang  when  he  saw  him  stretched  like  one  dead  on  the 
long  grass,  and  saw  the  bright  bird  again,  and  heard  the 
flap  of  her  wings,  and  saw  her  carry  away  the  third  apple. 
The  poor  fellow  woke  with  the  roar  the  king  let  at  him, 
and  even  was  in  time  enough  to  let  fly  an  arrow  after  the 
bird.  Pie  did  not  hit  her,  you  may  depend  ;  and  though 
the  king  was  mad  enough,  he  saw  the  poor  fellows  were 
under  pishtrogues,  and  could  not  help  it. 

Well,  he  had  some  hopes  out  of  the  youngest,  for  he 
was  a  brave,  active  young  fellow,  that  had  everybody's 
good  word.  There  he  was  ready,  and  there  was  the  king 
watching  him,  and  talking  to  him  at  the  first  stroke  of 
twelve.  At  the  last  clang,  the  brightness  coining  before 
the  bird  lighted  up  the  wall  and  the  trees,  and  the  rush 
ing  of  the  wings  was  heard  as  it  flew  into  the  branches  ; 
but  at  the  same  instant  the  crack  of  the  arrow  on  her  side 
might  be  heard  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off.  Down  came  the 
arrow  and  a  large  bright  fe'ather  along  with  it,  and  away 
was  the  bird,  with  a  screech  that  was  enough  to  break 
the  drum  of  your  ear.  She  hadn't  time  to  carry  off  an 
apple  ;  and  bedad,  when  the  feather  was  thrown  up  into 
the  king's  room  it  was  heavier  than  lead,  and  turned  out 
to  be  the  finest  beaten  gold. 

Well,  there  was  great  cooramuch  made  about  the 
youngest  boy  next  day,  and  he  watched  night  after  night 


THE  GREEK  PRINCESS.  115 

for  a  week,  hut  not  u  mite  of  u  hird  or  hird's  feather  was 
to  be  seen,  and  then  the  king  told  him  to  go  home  and 
sleep.  Every  one  admired  the  beauty  of  the  gold  feather 
heyond  anything,  but  the  king  was  fairly  hewitehed.  He 
was  turning  it  round  and  round,  and  rnhhing  it  against 
his  forehead  and  his  nose  the  livelong  day  ;  and  at  last 
he  proclaimed  that  he'd  give  his  daughter  and  half  his 
kingdom  to  whoever  would  hring  him  the  hird  with  the 
gold  feathers,  dead  or  alive. 

The  gardener's  eldest  son  had  great  conceit  of  himself, 
and  away  he  went  to  look  for  the  hird.  In  the  afternoon 
lie  sat  down  under  a  tree  to  rest  himself,  and  eat  a  hit  of 
hread  and  cold  meat  that  he  had  in  his  wallet,  when  up 
comes  as  tine  a  looking  fox  as  you'd  see  in  the  burrow  of 
Munfin.  "Muslin,  sir,"  savs  he,  "would  you  spare  a  hit 
of  that  meat  to  a  poor  hody  that's  hungry?" 

fc*  Well,"  says  the  other,  "  you  must  have  tin-  divil's  own 
assurance,  you  common  robber,  to  ask  me  such  a  ques 
tion.  Here's  the  answer,"  and  he  let  fly  at  the  ///»«//////•/•- 
(i  it  /'//it . 

The  arrow  scraped  from  his  side  up  o\er  his  hack,  as  il' 
he  was  made  of  hammered  iron,  and  stuck  ii:  live  a 
couple  of  perches  off. 

u  Foul  play,"  savs  the  fox:  lull  I  respect  your  young 
broth;.-.,  anu  v  •  a  '.>it  oi  advice.  At  nightfall  you'll 

come  into  a  village.  One  side  of  the  street  you'll  see  a 
large  room  lighted  up,  and  rilled  with  young  men  and 
women,  dancing  and  drinking.  The  other  side  you'll  see 
a  house  with  no  light,  only  from  the  tire  in  the  front 
room,  and  no  one  near  it  but  a  man  and  his  wife,  and  their 
child.  Take  a  fool's  advice,  and  get  lodging  there." 
With  that  he  curled  his  tail  over  his  crupper,  and  trotted 
off. 

The  boy  found  things  as  the  fox  said,  but  lef/ontts  he 
chose  the  dancing  and  drinking,  and  there  we'll  leave 
him.  In  a  week's  time,  when  they  got  tired  at  home 
waiting  for  him,  the  second  son  said  he'd  try  his  fortune, 
and  off  he  set.  He  was  just  as  ill-natured  and  foolish  as 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

his  brother,  and  the  sunk1  thing  happened  to  him.  We'll, 
when  a  week  was  over,  away  went  the  youngest  of  all, 
and  us  sure  as  the  hearth-money,  he  sat  under  the  same 
tree,  and  pulled  out  his  bread  and  meat,  and  the  same  fox 
eame  up  and  saluted  him.  Well,  the  young  fellow  shared 
his  dinner  witli  the  moddhereen,  and  he  wasn't  long  beat 
ing  about  the  bush,  but  told  the  other  he  knew  all  about 
his  business. 

"  I'll  help  you,"  says  he,  "  if  I  find  you're  biddable.  So 
just  at  nightfall  you'll  eome  into  a  village  .....  Good 
bye  till  to-morrow." 

It  was  just  as  the  fox  said,  but  the  boy  took  care  not  to 
go  near  dancer,  drinker,  tiddler,  or  piper.  He  got  wel 
come  in  the  quiet  house  to  supper  and  bed,  and  was  on 
his  journey  next  morning  before  the  sun  was  the  height  of 
the  trees. 

He  wasn't  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile  when  he  saw  the 
fox  coming  out  of  a  wood  that  was  by  the  roadside. 

"Good-morrow,  fox,"  says  one. 

"Good-morrow,  sir,"  says  the  other. 

"Have  you  any  notion  how  far  you  have  to  travel  till 
you  find  the  golden  bird?  " 

"Dickens  ;i  notion  have  I  :  —  how  could  I  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  have.  She's  in  the  King  of  Spain's  palace, 
and  that's  a  good  two  hundred  miu-s 

"  Oh,  dear  !  we'll  be  a  week  going." 

"No,  we  won't.  Sit  down  on  my  tail,  and  we'll  soon 
make  the  road  short." 

"Tail,  indeed!  that  'ud  be   the  droll  saddle,  my  poor 


"  Do  as  I  tell  you,  or  I'll  leave  you  to  yourself." 
Well,  rather  than  vex  him  he  sat  down  on  the  tall  that 
was  spread  out  level  like  a  wing,  and  away  they  went  like 
thought.  They  overtook  the  wind  that  was  before  them, 
and  the  wind  that  came  after  didn't  overtake  them.  In 
the  afternoon,  they  stopped  in  a  wood  near  the  King  of 
Spain's  palace,  and  there  they  stayed  till  nightfall. 

"Now,"  says  the  fox,  "I'll  go   before  yon  to  make  the 


THE  CREEK  PRINCESS.  117 

minds  of  the  guards  easy,  and  you'll  have  nothing  to  do 
but  go  from  lighted  hall  to  another  lighted  hall  till  you 
find  the  golden  bird  in  the  last.  If  you  have  a  head  on 
yon, 'tyou'll  bring  himself  and  his  cage  outside  the  door, 
and  no  one  then  can  lay  hands  on  him  or  you.  If  you 
haven't  a  head  I  can't  help  you,  nor  no  one  else.1'  So  lie 
went  over  to  the  gates. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  boy  followed,  and  in  the 
first  hall  he  passed  he  saw  a  score  of  armed  guards  stand 
ing  upright,  but  all  dead  asleep.  In  the  next  he  saw  ;i 
dozen,  and  in  the  next  half  a  dozen,  and  in  the  next  three, 
and  in  the,  room  beyond  that  there  was  no  guard  at  all, 
nor  lamp,  nor  candle,  but  it  was  as  bright  as  day  ;  for 
there  was  the  golden  bird  in  a  common  wood  and  wire 
cage,  and  on  the  table  were  the  three  apples  turned  into 
solid  gold. 

On  the  same  table  was  the  most  lovely  golden  cage  eye 
ever  beheld,  and  it  entered  the  boy's  head  that  it  would 
be  a  thousand  pities  not  to  put  the  precious  bird  into  it, 
the  co* u mon  cage  was  so  until  for  her.  Mavbe  he 
thought  of  the  monev  it  was  worth  ;  anyhow  he  made  the 
exchange,  and  he  had  soon  good  reason  to  be  sorry  for  it. 
The  instant  the  shoulder  of  the  bird's  wing  touched  the 
golden  wires,  he  let  such  a  xy //////•/•  out  of  him  its  was 
enough  to  break  all  the  panes  of  glass  in  the  windows, 
and  at  the  same  minute  the  three  men,  and  the  half-do/en, 
and  the  do/en,  and  the  score  men,  woke  up  and  clattered 
their  swords  and  spears,  and  surrounded  the  poor  boy, 
and  jibed,  and  cursed,  and  swore  at.  hi  me,  till  he  didn't 
know  whether  it's  his  foot  or  head  he  was  standing  on. 
They  called  the  king,  and  told  him  what  happened,  and 
he  put  on  a  very  grim  face.  "  It's  on  a  gibbet  you  ought 
to  be  this  moment,"  says  he,  u  but  I'll  give  you  a  chance 
of  your  life,  and  of  the  golden  bird,  too.  I  lay  you  under 
prohibitions,  and  restrictions,  and  death,  and  destruction, 
to  go  and  bring  me  the  King  of  J/o/'mv/x  bay  filly  that 
outruns  the  wind,  and  leaps  over  the  walls  of  castle- 
bawns.  When  you  fetch  her  into  the  bawn  of  this  pal- 


118 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


ace,  you  must  get  the  golden  bird,  and  liberty  to  go  where 
you  please." 

Out  passed  the  boy,  very  down-hearted,  but  as  he  went 
along,  who  should  come  out  of  a  brake  but  the  f 03? again. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  says  he,  "  I  was  right  when  I  sun- 
pected  you  hadn't  a  head  on  you ;  but  I  won't  rub  your 
hair  again'  the  grain.  Get  on  my  tail  again,  and  when  we 


come  to  the  King  of  Moroco's  palace,  we'll  see  what  we 
can  do." 

So  away  they  went  like  thought.  The  wind  that  was 
before  them  they  would  overtake  ;  the  wind  that  was  be 
hind  them  would  not  overtake  them. 

Well,  the  nightfall  came  on  them  in  a  wood  near  the 
palace,  and  says  the  fox,  "I'll  go  and  make  things  easy 
for  you  at  the  stables,  and  when  you  are  leading  out  the 
filly,  don't  let  her  touch  the  door,  nor  doorposts,  nor  any- 


THE  GREEK  PRINCESS.  119 

thing  but  the  ground,  and  that  with  her  hoofs  ;  and  if 
you  haven't  a  head  on  you  once  you  are  in  the  stable, 
you'll  be  worse  off  than  before." 

So  the  boy  delayed  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  then 
he  went  into  the  big  bawn  of  the  palace.  There  were  two 
rows  of  armed  men  reaching  from  the  gate  to  the  stable, 
and  every  man  was  in  the  depth  of  dee})  sleep,  and 
through  them  went  the  boy  till  he  got  into  the  stable. 
There  was  the  filly,  as  handsome  a  beast  as  ever  stretched 
leg,  and  there  was  one  stable-boy  with  a  currycomb  in  his 
hand,  and  another  with  a  bridle,  and  another  with  a  sieve 
of  oats,  and  another  with  an  armful  of  hay,  and  all  as  if 
they  were  cut  out  of  stone.  The  filly  was  the  only  live 
thing  in  the  place  except  himself.  She  had  a  common 
wood  and  leather  saddle  on  her  back,  but  a  golden  saddle 
with  the  nicest  work  on  it  was  hung  from  the  post,  and 
he  thought  it  the  greatest  pity  not  to  put  it  in  place  of 
the  other.  Well,  I  believe  there  was  some  j>i#hi'n</n<# 
over  it  fora  saddle;  anyhow,  he  took  otf  the  other,  and 
put  the  gold  one  in  its  place. 

Out  came  a  squeal  from  the  filly's  tliro.it-  when  she 
felt  the  strange  article,  that  might  be  heard  from  Tom- 
brick  to  liunclody,  and  all  as  ready  were  the  armed  men 
and  the  stable-boys  to  run  and  surround  the  <nt><i<I/i<in  of 
a  boy,  and  the  King  of  ^loroco  was  soon  there  along  with 
the  rest,  with  a  face  on  him  as  black  as  the  sole  of  your 
foot.  After  he  stood  enjoying  the  abuse  the  poor  boy  got 
from  everybody  for  some  time,  he  says  to  him,  u  You 
deserve  high  hanging  for  your  impudence,  but  Til  give 
you  a  chance  for  your  life  and  the  filly,  too.  I  lay  on  you 
all  sorts  of  prohibitions,  and  restrictions,  and  death,  and 
destruction  to  go  bring  me  Princess  Golden  Locks,  the 
King  of  Greek's  daughter.  AVhen  you  deliver  her  into 
my  hand,  you  may  have  the  'daughter  of  the  wind,'  and 
welcome.  Come  in  and  take  your  supper  and  your  rest, 
and  be  off  at  the  flight  of  night.*' 

The  poor  boy  was  down  in  the  mouth,  you  may  sup 
pose,  as  he  \vas  walking  away  next  morning,  and  very 


120  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

much  ashamed  when  the  fox  looked  up  in  his  face  after 
coming  out  of  the  wood. 

"  What  a  thing  it  is,"  says  he,  "  not  to  have  a  head 
when  a  body  wants  it  worst;  and  here  we  have  aline 
long  journey  before  us  to  the  King  of  Greek's  palace. 
The  worse  luck  now,  the  same  always.  Here,  get  on  my 
tail,  and  we'll  be  making  the  road  shorter." 

So  he  sat  on  the  fox's  tail,  and  swift  as  thought  they 
went.  The  wind  that  was  before  them  they  would  over 
take  it,  the  wind  that  was  behind  them  would  not  over 
take  them,  and  in  the  evening  they  were  eating  their 
bread  and  cold  meat  in  the  wood  near  the  castle. 

"  Now,"  says  the  fox,  when  they  were  done,  "  I'll  go 
before  you  to  make  things  easy.  Follow  me  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  Don't  let  Princess  Golden  Locks  touch  the 
jambs  of  the  doors  with  her  hands,  or  hair,  or  clothes,  and 
if  you're  asked  any  favor,  mind  how  you  ansAver.  Once 
she's  outside  the  door,  no  one  can  take  her  from  you." 

Into  the  palace  walked  the  boy  at  the  proper  time,  and. 
there  were  the  score,  and  the  dozen,  and  the  half-dozen, 
and  the  three  guards  all  standing  up  or  leaning  on  their 
arms,  and  all  dead  asleep,  and  in  the  farthest  room  of  all 
was  the  Princess  Golden  Locks,  as  lovely  as  Venus  her 
self.  She  was  asleep  in  one  chair,  and  her  father,  the 
King  of  Greek,  in  another.  He  stood  before  her  for  ever 
so  long  with  the  love  sinking  deeper  into  his  heart  every 
minute,  till  at  last  he  went  down  on  one  knee,  and  took 
her  darling  white  hand  in  his  hand,  and  kissed  it. 

\Vhen  she  opened  her  eyes,  she  was  a  little  frightened, 
but  I  believe  not  very  angry,  for  the  boy,  as  I  call  him, 
was  a  fin e^  handsome  young  fellow,  and  all  the  respect  and 
love  that  ever  you  could  think  of  was  in  his  face.  She 
asked  him  what  he  wanted,  and  he  stammered,  and  blushed, 
and  began  his  story  six  times,  before  she  understood  it. 

"  And  would  you  give  me  up  to  that  ugly  black  King 
of  Moroco  ?  "  says  she. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  do  so,"  says  he,  "  by  prohibitions,  and 
n  • ' •'•  -lions,  and  death3  and  destruction,  but  111  have  hir, 


The  Princess  asked  leave  to  kiss  the  old  man:  that  wouldn't  waken  him 
and  then  she'd  go. -Page  121.  Irish  Fmry  TnhK. 


THE  GREEK  PRINCESS.  121 

life  and  free  you,  or  lose  my  own.  If  I  can't  get  you  for 
my  wife,  my  days  on  the  earth  will  be  short." 

"  Well/1  says  she,  "let  me  take  leave  of  my  father  at 
any  rate." 

"Ah,  [  can't  do  that,"  says  he,  "or  they'd  all  waken, 
and  myself  would  be  put  to  death,  or  sent  to  some  task 
worse  than  any  I  got  yet." 

But  she  asked  leave  at  any  rate  to  kiss  the  old  man; 
that  wouldn't  waken  him,  and  then  she'd  go.  How  could 
he  refuse  her,  and  his  heart  tied  up  in  every  curl  of 
her  hair?  But,  bedad  the  moment  her  lips  touched  her 
father's,  he  let  a  cry,  and  every  one  of  the  score,  the 
do/en  guards  woke  up,  and  clashed  their  arms,  and  were 
going  to  make  gibbets  of  the  foolish  boy. 

But  the  king  ordered  them  to  hold  their  hands,  till  he'd 
be  iiifif'/ttH-d  of  what  it  was  all  about,  and  when  he  heard 
the  boy's  story  he  gave  him  a  chance  for  his  life. 

"There  is,"  says  he,  "a  great  heap  of  clay  in  front  of 
the  palace,  that  won't  let  the  sun  shine  on  the  walls  in 
the  middle  of  summer.  Every  one  that  ever  worked  at  it 
found  two  shovelfuls  added  to  it  for  every  one  they  threw 
away.  Remove  it,  and  I'll  let  my  (laugher  go  with  you. 
If  you're  the  man  I  suspect  you  to  be,  I  think  she'll  be  in 
no  danger  of  being  wife  to  that  yellow  Mvl<rtt" 

Early  next  morning  was  the  boy  tackled  to  his  work, 
and  for  every  shovelful  he  flung  away  two  came  back  on 
him,  and  at  last  he  could  hardly  get  out  of  the  heap  that 
gathered  round  him.  Well,  the  poor  fellow  scrambled 
out  some  way,  and  sat  down  on  a  sod,  and  he'd  have  cried 
only  for  the  shame  of  it.  He  began  at  it  in  ever  so  many 
places,  and  one  was  still  worse  than  the  other,  and  in  the 
heel  of  the  evening,  when  he  was  sitting  with  his  head 
between  his  hands,  AV!IO  should  be  standing  before  him 
but  the  fox. 

"  Well,  my  poor  fellow,"  says  he,  "  you're  low  enough. 
Go  in:  I  won't  say  anything  to  add  to  your  trouble. 
Take  your  supper  and  your  rest ;  to-morrow  will  be  a  new 
day." 


122  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  How  is  the  work  going  off  ?  "  says  the  king,  when 
they  were  at  supper. 

"Faith,  your  Majesty,"  says  the  poor  boy,  "it's  not 
going  off,  but  coming  on  it  is.  I  suppose  you'll  have 
the  trouble  of  digging  me  out  at  sunset  to-morrow,  and 
waking  me." 

"  I  hope  not,"  says  the  princess,  with  a  smile  on  her 
kind  face  ;  and  the  boy  was  as  happy  as  anything  the  rest 
of  the  evening. 

He  was  Avakened  up  the  next  morning  with  voices  shout 
ing,  and  bugles  blowing,  and  drums  beating,  and  such  a 
hullibulloo  he  never  heard  in  his  life  before.  He  ran  out 
to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  there,  where  the  heap  of 
clay  was  the  evening  before,  were  soldiers,  and  servants, 
and  lords,  and  ladies,  dancing  like  mad  for  joy  that  it  was 
gone. 

"  Ah,  my  poor  fox  !  "  says  he  to  himself,  "  this  is  your 
work." 

Well  there  was  little  delay  about  his  return.  The  king 
was  going  to  send  a  great  retinue  with  the  princess  and 
himself,  but  he  wouldn't  let  him  take  the  trouble. 

"  I  have  a  friend,"  says  he,  "  that  will  bring  us  both  to 
the  King  of  Moroco's,  palace  in  a  day,  d—  -  fly  away  with 
him !  "— 

There  was  great  crying  when  she  was  parting  from 
her  father. 

"  Ah  !  "  says  he,  "  what  a  lonesome  life  I'll  have  now  ! 
Your  poor  brother  in  the  power  of  that  wicked  witch, 
and  kept  away  from  us,  and  now  you  taken  from  me  in 
my  old  age !  " 

Well,  they  both  were  walking  on  through  the  wood, 
and  he  telling  her  how  much  he  loved  her ;  out  walked 
the  fox  from  behind  a  brake,  and  in  a  short  time  he  and 
she  were  sitting  on  the  brush,  and  holding  one  another 
fast  for  fear  of  slipping  off,  and  away  they  went  like 
thought.  The  wind  that  was  before  them  they  would 
overtake  it,  and  in  the  evening  he  and  she  were  in  the  big 
bawn  of  the  King  of  Mordco's  castle. 


THE  GREEK  PRINCESS.  123 

"  Well,"  says  he  to  the  boy,  "you've  done  your  duty 
well ;  bring  out  the  bay  filly.  I'd  give  the  full  of  the 
bawn  of  such  fillies,  if  I  had  them,  for  this  handsome 
princess.  Get  on  your  steed,  and  here  is  a  good  purse  of 
guineas  for  the  road." 

"  Thank  you,"  says  he.  "  I  suppose  you'll  let  me  shake 
hands  with  the  princess  before  I  start." 


"  YVs,  indeed,  and  welcome." 

Well,  he  was  some  little  time  about  the  hand-shaking, 
and  before  it  was  overlie  had  her  fixed  snug  behind  him  ; 
and  while  yon  could  count  three,  he,  and  she,  and  the 
filly  were  through  all  the  guards,  and  a  hundred  perches 
away.  On  they  went,  and  next  morning  they  were  in  the 
wood  near  the  King  of  Spain's  palace,  and  there  was  the 
fox  before  them. 

"  Leave  your  princess  here  with  me,"  says  he,  "  and  go 
get  the  golden  bird  and  the  three  apples.  If  you  don't 
bring  us  back  the  filly  along  with  the  bird,  I  must  carry 
you  both  home  myself." 

Well,  when  the  King  of  Spain  saw  the  boy  and  the  filly 
in  the  bawn,  he  made  the  golden  bird,  and  the  golden  cage, 


1  24  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

and  the  golden  apples  be  brought  out  and  handed  to  him, 
and  was  very  thankful  and  very  glad  of  his  prize.  But 
the  boy  could  not  part  with  the  nice  beast  without  petting 
it  and  rubbing  it ;  and  while  no  one  was  expecting  such  a 
thing,  he  was  on  its  back,  and  through  the  guards,  and  a 
hundred  perches  away,  and  he  wasn't  long  till  he  came 
to  where  he  left  his  princess  and  the  fox. 

They  hurried  away  till  they  were  safe  out  of  the  King 
of  Spain's  land,  and  then  they  went  on  easier ;  and  if  I 
was  to  tell  you  all  the  loving  things  they  said  to  one 
another,  the  story  wouldn't  be  over  till  morning.  When 
they  were  passing  the  village  of  the  dance  house  they 
found  his  two  brothers  begging,  and  they  brought  them 
along.  When  they  came  to  where  the  fox  appeared  first, 
he  begged  the  young  man  to  cut  off  his  head  and  his  tail. 
He  would  not  do  it  for  him ;  he  shivered  at  the  very 
thought,  but  the  eldest  brother  was  ready  enough.  The 
head  and  tail  vanished  with  the  blows,  and  the  body 
changed  into  the  finest  young  man  you  could  see,  and  who 
was  he  but  the  princess's  brother  that  was  bewitched. 
Whatever  joy  they  had  before,  they  had  twice  as  much 
now,  and  when  they  arrived  at  the  palace  bonfires  were 
set  blazing,  oxes  roasting,  and  puncheons  of  wine  put  out 
in  the  lawn.  The  young  Prince  of  Greece  was  married  to 
the  king's  daughter,  and  the  prince's  sister  to  the  gar 
dener's  son.  He  and  she  went  a  shorter  way  back  to  her 
father's  house,  with  many  attendants,  and  the  king  was 
so  glad  of  the  golden  bird  and  the  golden  apples,  that  he 
had  sent  a  wagon  full  of  gold  and  a  wagon  full  of  silver 
along  with  them. 


\ 


THE  SOLITARY  FAIRIES.* 

LEPRACAUN".       CLURICAUX.       FAR    DARRIG. 

"  THE  name  LepracaunJ1*  Mr.  Douglas  Hyde  writes  to 
me,  "is  from  the  THsOSS  !»:<J{/ — ''•<-•,  the  One-shoemaker, 
since  he  is  generally  seen  working  at  a  single  shoe.  It  is 
spelt  in  Irish  frith  Wiroyan,  or  frith  plu'<></an,  and  is  in 
some  places  pronounced  Luchryman,  as  (V Kearney  writes 
it  in  that  very  rare  hook,  the  7<Vx  7V////  Chnmiiit" 

The  LeprcLcaun^  Oluricctut^  and  7^«tr  Darriy.  Are 
these  one  spirit  in  different  moods  and  shapes?  Hardly 
two  Irish  writers  are  agreed.  In  many  things  these 
three  fairies,  if  three,  resemhle  each  other.  They  are 
withered,  old,  and  solitary,  in  every  way  unlike  the 
sociable  spirits  of  the  first  sections.  They  dress  with  all 
unfairy  homeliness,  and  are,  indeed,  most  sluttish,  slouch 
ing,  jeering,  mischievous  phantoms.  They  are  the  great 
practical  jokers  among  the  good  people. 

The  Lepracann  makes  shoes  continually,  and  has  grown 
very  rich.  Many  treasure-crocks,  buried  of  old  in  war 
time,  has  he  now  for  his  own.  In  the  early  part  of  this 
century,  according  to  Croker,  in  a  newspaper  office  in 

*  The  trooping  fairies  wear  green  jackets,  the  solitary  om>s 
red.  On  the  red  jacket  of  the  Lepracaun,  according  to  Mc- 
Anally,  are  seven  rows  of  buttons — seven  buttons  in  each  row. 
On  the  western  coast,  he  says,  the  red  jacket  is  covered  by  a 
frieze  one,  and  in  Ulster  the  creature  wears  a  cocked  hat,  and 
when  he  is  up  to  anything  unusually  mischievous,  leaps  on  to  a 
wall  and  spins,  balancing  himself  on  the  point  of  the  hat  with  his 
heels  in  the  air.  McAnally  tells  how  once  a  peasant  saw  a 
battle  between  the  green  jacket  fairies  and  the  red.  When  the 
green  jackets  began  to  -VIM,  so  delighted  was  he  to  see  the  green 
above  the  red.  he  gave  a  great  shout.  In  a  moment  all  vanished 
and  he  was  flung  into  the  ditch. 

125 


120  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Tipperary,  they  used  to  show  a  little  shoe  forgotten  by  a 
Lepracaun. 

The  f'lu/'irtuiH,  (Clobhair-ceann,  in  O'Kearney)  makes 
himself  drunk  in  gentlemen's  cellars.  Some  suppose  he 
is  merely  the  Lepracaun  on  a  spree.  He  is  almost  un 
known  in  Connaught  and  the  north. 

The  Far  Darring  (fear  dearg),  which  means  the  Red 
Man,  for  he  wears  a  red  cap  and  coat,  busies  himself  with 
practical  joking,  especially  with  gruesome  joking.  This 
he  does,  and  nothing  else. 

The  Fear-Gcrta  (Man  of  Hunger)  is  an  emaciated 
phantom  that  goes  through  the  land  in  famine  time,  beg 
ging  an  alms  and  bringing  good  luck  to  the  giver. 

There  are  other  solitary  fairies,  such  as  the  House-spirit 
and  the  Water- sheerie,  own  brother  to  the  English  Jack- 
o'- Lantern ;  the  Pooka  and  the  Banshee — concerning 
these  presently  ;  the  Dallahan,  or  headless  phantom — one 
used  to  stand  in  a  Sligo  street  on  dark  nights  till  lately  ; 
the  Black  Dog,  a  form,  perhaps,  of  the  Pooka.  The 
ships  at  the  Sligo  quays  are  haunted  sometimes  by  this 
spirit,  who  announces  his  presence  by  a  sound  like  the 
flinging  of  all  "  the  tin  porringers  in  the  world  "  down 
into  the  hold.  He  even  follows  them  to  see. 

The  Ijeanhaun  Shee  (fairy  mistress),  seeks  the  love  of 
mortals.  If  they  refuse,  she  must  be  their  slave ;  if  they 
consent,  they  are  hers,  and  can  only  escape  by  finding 
another  to  take  their  place.  The  fairy  lives  on  their  life, 
and  they  waste  away.  Death  is  no  escape  from  her.  She 
is  the  Gaelic  muse,  for  she  gives  inspiration  to  those  she 
persecutes.  The  Gaelic  poets  die  young,  for  she  is  rest 
less,  and  will  not  let  them  remain  long  on  earth — this 
malignant  phantom. 

Besides  these  are  divers  monsters — the  Augh-iska,  the 
Water-horse,  the  Payshtha  (piast=bestia),  the  Lake- 
dragon,  and  such  like ;  but  whether  these  be  animals, 
fairies,  or  spirits,  I  know  not. 


THE  LEPRACAUX.  1' 

THE  LEPRACAUX;  OK,  FAIRY  SHOEMAKER. 

WILLIAM     ALLINdllAAf. 


LITTLE  Cowboy,  what  have  you  heard, 

Up  on  the  lonely  ruth's  green  mound? 
Only  the  plaintive  yellow  bird  * 

Sighing  in  sultry  fields  around, 
Chary,  chary,  chary,  chee-ee  ! — 
Only  the  grasshopper  and  the  bee  ? — 
"  Tip  tap,  rip-rap, 
Tick-a-tack-too ! 
Scarlet  leather,  sewn  together, 

This  will  make  a  shoe. 
Left,  right,  pull  it  tight ; 

Summer  days  are  warm; 
Underground  in  winter, 

Laughing  at  the  storm!" 
Lay  your  ear  close  to  the  hill. 
Do  you  not  catch  the  tiny  clamor, 
Busy  click  of  an  elfin  hammer, 
Voice  of  the  Lepracaun  singing  shrill 
As  he  merrily  plies  his  trade  ? 
He's  a  span 

And  a  quarter  in  height. 
Get  him  in  sight,  hold  him  tight, 
And  you're  a  made 
Man ! 

ii. 

You  watch  your  cattle  the  summer  day, 
Sup  on  potatoes,  sleep  in  the  hay ; 

*  "  Yellow  bird,"  the  yellow-bunting,  or  yorlin. 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

I  low  would  you  like  to  roll  in  your  carriage, 
Look  for  a  duchess's  daughter  in  marriage  ? 
Seize  the  Shoemaker — then  you  may  ! 
"  Big  boots  a-hunting, 
Sandals  in  the  hall, 
White  for  a  wedding-feast, 

Pink  for  a  ball. 
This  way,  that  way, 

So  we  make  a  shoe  ; 
Getting  rich  every  stitch, 

Tick-tack-too ! " 
Nine-and-ninety  treasure-crocks 
This  keen  miser- fairy  hath, 
Hid  in  mountains,  woods,  and  rocks, 
Ruin  and  round- to w'r,  cave  and  rath, 
Arid  where  the  cormorants  build  ; 
From  times  of  old 
Guarded  by  him ; 
Each  of  them  filPd 
Full  to  the  brim 
With  gold ! 


in. 


I  caught  him  at  work  one  day,  myself, 

In  the  castle-ditch,  where  foxglove  grows,- 
A  wrinkled,  wizen  d,  and  bearded  Elf, 
Spectacles  stuck  on  his  pointed  nose, 
Silver  buckles  to  his  hose, 
Leather  apron — shoe  in  his  lap — 
"Rip-rap,  tip- tap, 
Tick- tack- too ! 
(A  grasshopper  on  my  cap ! 

Away  the  moth  flew !) 
Buskins  for  a  fairy  prince, 

Brogues  for  his  son, — 
Pay  me  well,  pay  me  well, 
When  the  job  is  done  !  " 


MASTER  AND  MAX.  109 

The  rogue  was  mine,  beyond  a  doubt. 

I  stared  at  him  ;  he  stared  at  me  ; 

"  Servant,  Sir !  "     "Humph  !  "  says  he, 

And  pullM  a  snutt'-box  out. 
He  took  a  long  pinch,  look'd  better -pleased, 

The  queer  little  Lepracaun  ; 
Offer'd  the  box  with  a  whimsical  grace, — 
Pouf !  he  flung  the  dust  in  my  face, 
And,  while  I  sneezed, 
Was  gone ! 


MASTER  AXI)  MAN. 

T.   CKOFTON    <  ROKKK. 

BILLY  MAC  DAXIKL  was  once  as  likely  a  young  man  as 
ever  shook  his  brogue  at  a  patron,*  emptied  a  quart,  or 
handled  a  shillelagh  ;  fearing  for  nothing  hut  the  want  of 
drink  ;  caring  for  nothing  but  who  should  pay  for  it  ;  and 
thinking  of  nothing  but  how  to  make  fun  over  it  ;  drunk 
or  sober,  a  word  and  a  blow  was  ever  the  way  with  Billy 
Mac  Daniel ;  and  a  mighty  easy  way  it  is  of  either  getting 
into  or  of  ending  a  dispute.  More  is  the  pity  that,  through 
the  means  of  his  thinking,  and  fearing,  and  caring  for  noth 
ing,  this  same  Hilly  Mac  Daniel  fell  into  bad  company  ; 
for  surely  the  good  people  are  the  worst  of  all  company 
any  one  could  come  across. 

It  so  happened  that  Hilly  was  going  home  one  clear 
frosty  night  not  long  after  Christmas  ;  the  moon  was  round 
and  bright;  but  although  it  was  as  line  a  night  as  heart 
could  wish  for,  he  felt  pinched  with  cold.  "  By  my  word/' 
chattered  Billy,  "a  drop  of  good  liquor  would  be  no  bad 
thing  to  keep  a  man's  soul  from  freezing  in  him;  and  I 
wish  I  had  a  full  measure  of  the  best." 

"  Never  wish  it  twice,  Billy,"  said  a  little  man  in  a  three- 

*  A  festival  held  in  honor  of  some  patron  saint. 


130  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

cornered  hat,  bound  all  about  with  gold  lace,  and  with 
great  silver  buckles  in  his  shoes,  so  big  that  it  was  a  won 
der  how  he  could  carry  them,  and  he  held  out  a  glass  as 
big  as  himself,  filled  with  as  good  liquor  as  ever  eye  looked 
on  or  lip  tasted. 

"  Success,  my  little  fellow,"  said  Billy  Mac  Daniel,  noth 
ing  daunted,  though  well  he  knew^  the  little  man  to  belong 
to  the  good  people ;  "here's  your  health,  any  way,  and 
thank  you  kindly  ;  no  matter  who  pays  for  the  drink ;  " 
and  he  took  the  glass  and  drained  it  to  the  very  bottom 
without  ever  taking  a  second  breath  to  it. 

"  Success,"  said  the  little  man ;  and  you're  heartily 
welcome,  Billy  ;  but  don't  think  to  cheat  me  as  you  have 
done  others, — out  with  your  purse  and  pay  me  like  a  gen 
tleman." 

"  Is  it  I  pay  you  ?  "  said  Billy  ;  "  could  I  not  just  take 
you  up  and  put  you  in  my  pocket  as  easily  as  a  black 
berry  ?  " 

"  Billy  Mac  Daniel,"  said  the  little  man,  getting  very 
angry,  "  you  shall  be  my  servant  for  seven  years  and  a 
day,  and  that  is  the  way  I  will  be  paid ;  so  make  ready  to 
follow  me." 

When  Billy  heard  this  he  began  to  be  very  sorry  for 
having  used  such  bold  words  towards  the  little  man  ;  and 
he  felt  himself,  yet  could  not  tell  how,  obliged  to  follow 
the  little  man  the  livelong  night  about  the  country,  up 
and  down,  and  over  hedge  and  ditch,  and  through  bog  and 
brake,  without  any  rest. 

When  morning  began  to  dawn  the  little  man  turned 
round  to  him  and  said,  "  You  may  now  go  home,  Billy, 
but  on  your  peril  don't  fail  to  meet  me  in  the  Fort-field 
to-night ;  or  if  you  do  it  may  be  the  worse  for  you  in  the 
long  run.  If  I  find  you  a  good  servant,  you  will  find  me 
an  indulgent  master." 

Home  went  Billy  Mac  Daniel ;  and  though  he  was  tired 
and  weary,  enough,  never  a  wink  of  sleep  could  he  get  for 
thinking  of  the  little  man  ;  but  he  was  afraid  not  to  do  his 
bidding,  so  up  he  got  in  the  evening,  and  away  he  went  to 


MASTER  AND  MAX.  131 

the  Fort-field.  He  was  not  long  there  before  the  little 
man  came  towards  him  and  said,  "  Billy,  I  want  to  go  a 
long  journey  to-night;  so  saddle  one  of  my  horses,  and 
you  may  saddle  another  for  yourself,  as  you  are  to  go  along 
with  me,  and  may  be  tired  after  your  walk  last  night." 

Billy  thought  this  very  considerate  of  his  master,  and 
thanked  him  accordingly  :  "  But,"  said  he,  "  if  I  may  be  so 
hold,  sir,  I  would  ask  which  is  the  way  to  your  stable,  for 
never  a  thing  do  I  see  but  the  fort  here,  and  the  old  thorn 
tree  in  the  corner  of  the  field,  and  the  stream  running  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hill,  with  the  bit  of  bog  over  against 
us." 

"  Ask  no  questions,  Billy,"  said  the  little  man,  "  but  go 
over  to  that  bit  of  bog,  and  bring  me  two  of  the  strongest 
rushes  you  can  find." 

Billy  did  accordingly,  wondering  what  the  little  man 
would  be  at  ;  and  he  picked  two  of  the  stoutest  rushes 
he  could  find,  with  a  little  bunch  of  brown  blossom  stuck 
at  the  side  of  each,  and  brought  them  back  to  his  master. 

"  Get ,  up,  Billy,"  said  the  little  man,  taking  one  of  the 
rushes  from  him  and  striding  across  it. 

"  Where  shall  I  get  up,  please  your  honor  ?  "  said  Billy. 

"  Why,  upon  horseback,  like  me,  to  be  sure,"  said  the 
little  man. 

"Ts  it  after  making  a  fool  of  me  you'd  be,"  said  Billy, 
"bidding  me  get  a  horseback  upon  that  bit  of  a  rush? 
May  be  you  want  to  persuade  me  that  the  rush  I  pulled 
but  a  while  ago  out  of  the  bog  over  there  is  a  horse?  " 

"Up!  up!  and  no  words,"  said  the  little  man,  looking 
very  angry  ;  "  the  best  horse  you  ever  rode  was  but  a  fool 
to  it."  So  Billy,  thinking  all  this  was  in  joke,  and  fear 
ing  to  vex  his  master,  straddled  across  the  rush.  "  Bor- 
rani !  Borram !  Borram  ! "  cried  the  little  man  three 
times  (which,  in  English,  means  to  become  great),  and 
Billy  did  the  same  after  him ;  presently  the  rushes 
swelled  up  into  fine  horses,  and  away  they  went  full 
speed  ;  but  Billy,  who  had  put  the  rush  between  his  legs, 
without  much  minding  how  he  did  it,  found  himself 


132  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

sitting  on  horseback  the  wrong  way,  which  was  rather 
awkward,  with  his  face  to  the  horse's  tail ;  and  so  quickly 
had  his  steed  started  off  with  him  that  he  had  no  power 
to  turn  round,  and  there  was  therefore  nothing  for  it  but 
to  hold  on  by  the  tail. 

At  last  they  came  to  their  journey's  end,  and  stopped 
at  the  gate  of  a  fine  house.  "  Xow,  Billy,"  said  the  little 
man,  "  do  as  you  see  me  do,  and  follow  me  close  ;  but  as 
you  did  not  know  your  horse's  head  from  his  tail,  mind 
that  your  own  head  does  not  spin  round  until  you  can't 
tell  whether  you  are  standing  on  it  or  on  your  heels :  for 
remember  that  old  liquor,  though  able  to  make  a  cat 
speak,  can  make  a  man  dumb.' 

The  little  man  then  said  some  queer  kind  of  words, 
out  of  which  Billy  could  make  no  meaning;  but  he  con 
trived  to  say  them  after  him  for  all  that ;  and  in  they 
both  went  through  the  key-hole  of  the  door,  and  through 
one  key-hole  after  another,  until  they  got  into  the  wine- 
cellar,  which  was  well  stored  with  all  kinds  of  wine. 

The  little  man  fell  to  drinking  as  hard  as  he  could,  and 
Billy,  noway  disliking  the  example,  did  the  same.  "  The 
best  of  masters  are  you,  surely,"  said  Billy  to  him ;  "  no 
matter  who  is  the  next ;  and  well  pleased  will  I  be  with 
your  service  if  you  continue  to  give  me  plenty  to  drink." 

"  I  have  made  110  bargain  with  you,"  said  the  little  man, 
"  and  will  make  none ;  but  up  and  follow  me."  Away 
they  went,  through  key-hole  after  key-hole;  and  each 
mounting  upon  the  rush  which  he  left  at  the  hall  door, 
scampered  off,  kicking  the  clouds  before  them  like  snow 
balls,  as  soon  as  l;he  words,  "  Borram,  Borram,  Borram," 
had  passed  their  lips. 

When  they  came  back  to  the  Fort-field  the  little  man 
dismissed  Billy,  bidding  him  to  be  there  the  next  night 
at  the  same  hour.  Thus  did  they  go  on,  night  after  night, 
shaping  their  course  one  night  here,  and  another  night 
there;  sometimes  north,  and  sometimes  east,  and  some 
times  south,  until  there  was  not  a  gentleman's  wine-cellar 
in  all  Ireland  they  had  not  visited,  and  could  tell  the 


MASTER  AND  MAN.  1,°,,°, 

flavor  of  every  wine  in  it  as  well,  ay,  better  than  the  butler 
himself. 

One  night  when  Billy  Mae  Daniel  met  the  little  man 
as  usual  in  the  Fort-field,  and  was  going  to  the  bog  to 
fetch  the  horses  for  their  journey,  his  master  said  to 
him,  u  Billy,  I  shall  want  another  horse  to-night,  for  may 
be  we  may  bring  back  more  company  than  we  take." 
So  Billy,  who  now  knew  better  than  to  question  any  order 
given  to  him  by  his  master,  brought  a  third  rush,  much 
wondering  who  it  might  be  that  would  travel  back  in 
their  company,  and  whether  he  was  about  to  have  a 
fellow-servant.  u  If  I  have,"  thought  Billy,  "he  shall  go 
and  fetch  the  horses  from  the  bog  every  night  ;  for  I  don't 
see  why  I  am  not,  every  inch  of  me,  as  good  a  gentleman 
as  my  master." 

Well,  away  they  went,  Billy  leading  the  third  horse, 
and  never  stopped  until  they  came  to  a  snug  farmer's 
house,  in  the  county  Limerick,  close  under  the  old  castle  of 
Carrigogunniel,  that  was  built,  they  say,  by  the  great 
.Brian  Born.  Within  the  house  there  was  great  carousing 
forward,  and  the  little  man  stopped  outside  for  some  time 
to  listen  ;  then  turning  round  all  of  a  sudden,  said, 
"Billy,  I  will  be  a  thousand  years  old  to-morrow  !" 

"(n>d  bless  us,  sir,"  said  Billy  ;  u  will  vou  ?  " 

"Don't  say  these  words  again,  Billy, "said  the  little 
old  man,  u  or  you  will  be  my  ruin  forever.  Now,  Billy, 
as  I  will  be  a  thousand  years  in  the  world  to-morrow,  I 
think  it  is  full  time  for  me  to  get  married.'1 

"  I  think  so  too,  without  any  kind  of  doubt  at  all,"  said 
Billy,  "  if  ever  you  mean  to  marry." 

"  And  to  that  purpose,"  said  the  little  man,  "  have  1 
come  all  the  way  to  Carrigogunniel  ;  for  in  this  house  this 
very  night,  is  young  Darby  Riley  going  to  be  married  to 
Bridget  Rooney ;  and  as  she  is  a  tall  and  comely  girl,  and 
has  come  of  decent  people,  I  think  of  marrying  her  my 
self,  and  taking  her  off  with  me." 

"And  what  will  Darby  Riley  say  to  that?"  said  Billy. 

"  Silence  ! "  said  the  little   man,  putting  on   a  mighty 


i;U  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

severe  look  ;  "  I  did  not  bring  you  here  with  me  to  ask 
questions ; "  and  without  holding  further  argument,  he 
began  saying  the  queer  words  which  had  the  power  of 
passing  him  through  the  key-hole  as  free  as  air,  and 
which  Billy  thought  himself  mighty  clever  to  be  able  to 
say  after  him. 

In  they  both  went;  and  for  the  better  viewing  the 
company,  the  little  man  perched  himself  up  as  nimbly  as 
a  cocksparrow  upon  one  of  the  big  beams  which  went 
across  the  house  over  all  their  heads,  and  Billy  did  the 
same  upon  another  facing  him  ;  but  not  being  much  ac 
customed  to  roosting  in  such  a  place,  his  legs  hung  down 
as  untidy  as  may  be,  and  it  was  quite  clear  he  had  not  taken 
pattern  after  the  way  in  which  the  little  man  had  bun 
dled  himself  up  together.  If  the  little  man  had  been  a 
tailor  all  his  life  he  could  not  have  sat  more  contentedly 
upon  his  haunches. 

There  they  were,  both  master  and  man,  looking  down 
upon  the  fun  that  was  going  forward ;  and  under  them 
were  the  priest  and  piper,  and  the  father  of  Darby  Riley, 
with  Darby's  two  brothers  and  his  uncle's  son  ;  and  there 
were  both  the  father  and  the  mother  of  Bridget  Rooney, 
and  proud  enough  the  old  couple  were  that  night  of  their 
daughter,  as  good  right  they  had  ;  and  her  four  sisters, 
with  bran  new  ribbons  in  their  caps,  and  her  three  brothers 
all  looking  as  clean  and  as  clever  as  any  three  boys  in 
Minister,  and  there  were  uncles  and  aunts,  and  gossips  and 
cousins  enough  besides  to  make  a  full  house  of  it ;  and 
plenty  was  there  to  eat  and  drink  on  the  table  for  every 
one  of  them,  if  they  had  been  double  the  number. 

Now  it  happened,  just  as  Mrs.  Rooney  had  helped  his 
reverence  to  the  first  cut  of  the  pig's  head  which  was 
placed '  before  her,  beautifully  bolstered  up  Avith  white 
savoys,  that  the  bride  gave  a  sneeze,  which  made  every 
one  at  table  start,  but  not  a  soul  said  "  God  bless  us."  All 
thinking  that  the  priest  would  have  done  so,  as  he  ought 
if  he  had  done  his  duty,  no  one  wished  to  take  the  word 
out  of  his  mouth,  which,  unfortunately,  was  preoccupie  I 


MASTER  AND  MAN. 

11  HIST  V 

with  pig's  head  and  greens.     And  after  a  moment's  par' 
the  fun  and  merriment  of  the  bridal  feast  went  on  with 
out  the  pious  benediction. 

Of  this  circumstance  both  Hilly  and  his  master  were  no 
inattentive  spectators  from  their  exalted  stations.  "  I  la  !  " 
exclaimed  the  little  man,  throwing  one  leg  from  under 
him  with  a  joyous  flourish,  and  his  eye  twinkled  with  a 
strange  light,  whilst  his  eyebrows  became  elevated  into 
the  curvature  of  Gothic  arches;  "  Ha  !"  said  he,  leering 
down  at  the  bride,  and  then  up  at  Hilly,  "  I  have  half  of 
her  now,  surely.  Let  her  sneeze  but  twice  more,  and  she 
is  mine,  in  spite  of  priest,  mass-book,  and  Darby  Rilev." 

Again  the  fair  Hridget  sneezed  ;  but  it  was  so  genth  , 
and  she  blushed  so  much,  that  few  except  the  little  man 
took,  or  seemed  to  take,  any  notice;  and  no  one  thought 
of  saying  "  God  bless  us." 

Hilly  all  this  time  regarded  the  poor  girl  with  a  most 
rueful  expression  of  countenance:  for  he  could  not  help 
thinking  what  a  terrible  thing  it  was  fora  nice  young  girl 
of  nineteen,  with  large  blue  eyes,  transparent  skin,  and 
dimpled  cheeks,  suffused  with  health  and  joy,  to  be  obliged 
to  marry  an  ugly  little  bit  of  a  man,  who  was  a  thousand 
years  old,  barring  a  day. 

At  this  critical  moment  the  bride  gave  a  third  sneeze, 
and  Hilly  roared  out  with  all  his  might,  "  God  save  us  !  " 
Whether  this  exclamation  resulted  from  his  soliloquy,  or 
from  the  mere  force  of  habit,  he  never  could  tell  exactly 
himself;  but  no  sooner  was  it  uttered  than  the  little  man. 
his  face  glowing  with  rage  and  disappointment,  sprung 
from  the  beam  on  which  he  had  perched  himself,  and 
shrieking  out  in  the  shrill  voice  of  a  cracked  bagpipe,  u  1 
discharge  you  from  my  service,  Hilly  Mac  Daniel — take 
that  for  your  wages,1'  gave  poor  Billy  a  most  furious  kick 
in  the  back,  which  sent  his  unfortunate  servant  sprawling 
upon  his  face  and  hands  right  in  the  middle  of  the  sup 
per-table. 

If  Hilly  was  astonished,  how  much  more  so  was  every 
one  of  the  company  into  which  he  was  thrown  with  so 


\ 


l.'U  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

•sv  ceremony.  But  when  they  heard  his  story,  Father 
ooney  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  married  the 
young  couple  out  of  hand  with  all  speed;  and  Billy  Mac 
Daniel  danced  the  Rinka  at  their  wedding,  and  plenty  he 
did  drink  at  it  too,  which  was  what  he  thought  more  of 
than  dancing. 


FAR  DAHRIG  IN  DONEGAL. 

MISS    LETITIA     MACLIXTOCK. 

PAT  DIVER,  the  tinker,  was  a  man  well-accustomed  to 
a  wandering  life,  and  to  strange  shelters ;  he  had  shared 
the  beggar's  blanket  in  smoky  cabins  ;  he  had  crouched 
beside  the  still  in  many  a  nook  and  corner  where  poteen 
was  made  on  the  wild  Innishowen  mountains;  he  had 
even  slept  on  the  bare  heather,  or  on  the  ditch,  with  no 
roof  over  him  but  the  vault  of  heaven;  yet  were  all  his 
nights  of  adventure  tame  and  commonplace  when  com 
pared  with  one  especial  night. 

During  the  day  preceding  that  night,  he  had  mended 
all  the  kettles  and  saucepans  in  Moville  and  Greencastle, 
and  was  on  his  way  to  (Juldaff,  when  night  overtook  him 
on  a  lonely  mountain  road. 

lie  knocked  at  one  door  after  another  asking  for  a 
night's  lodging,  while  he  jingled  the  halfpence  in  his 
pocket,  but  was  everywhere  refused. 

Where  was  the  boasted  hospitality  of  Innishowen, 
which  he  had  never  before  known  to  fail  ?  It  was  of  no 
use  to  be  able  to  pay  when  the  people  seemed  so  churlish. 
Thus  thinking,  he  made  his  way  towards  a  light  a  little 
further  on,  and  knocked  at  another  cabin  door. 

An  old  man  and  woman  were  seated  one  at  each  side  of 
the  fire. 

"  Will  you  be  pleased  to  give  me  a  night's  lodging,  sir  ?  " 
asked  Pat  respectfully. 

"  Can  you  tell  a  story  ?  "  returned  the  old  man, 


FAR  DARRIG  IN  DONEGAL.  137 

«  Xo,  then,  sir,  I  canna  say  I'm  good  at  story-telling," 
replied  the  puzzled  tinker. 

"  Then  you  maun  just  gang  further,  for  none  but  them 
that  can  tell  a  story  will  get  in  here." 

This  reply  was  made  in  so  decided  a  tone  that  Pat  did 
not  attempt  to  repeat  his  appeal,  but  turned  away  reluct 
antly  to  resume  his  weary  journey. 

"A  story,  indeed,"  muttered  lie.  " Auld  wives,  fables 
to  please  the  weans!  " 

As  he  took  up  his  bundle  of  tinkering  implements,  he 
observed  a  barn  standing  rather  behind  the  dwelling-house, 
and,  aided  by  the  rising  moon,  he  made  his  way  towards  it. 

It  was  a  clean,  roomy  barn,  with  a  piled-up  heap  of  straw 
in  one  corner.  Here  was  a  shelter  not  to  be  despised;  so 
Pat  crept  under  the  straw,  and  was  soon  asleep. 

He  could  not  have  slept  very  long  when  he  was  awakened 
by  the  tram])  of  feet,  and,  peeping  cautiously  through  a 
crevice  in  his  straw  covering,  he  saw  four  immensely  tall 
men  enter  tbc  barn,  dragging  a  body,  which  they  threw 
roughly  upon  the  floor. 

They  next  lighted  a  fire  in  the  middle  of  the  barn,  and 
fastened  tbe  corpse  by  the  feet  with  a  great  rope  to  a  beam 
in  the  roof.  One  of  them  then  began  to  turn  it  slowly 
before  the  tire.  u  Tome  on,"  said  he,  addressing  a  gigantic 
fellow,  the  tallest  of  the  four— "  Fm  tired  ;  you  be  to  tak' 
your  turn." 

u  Faix  an"  troth,  I'll  no  turn  him,"  replied  the  big  man. 
"There's  Pat  Diver  in  under  the  straw,  why  wouldn't  he 
tak"  bis  turn  ?  " 

\Vith  hideous  clamor  the  four  men  called  the  wretched 
Pat,  who  seeing  there  was  no  escape,  thought  it  was  his 
wisest  plan  to  come  forth  as  he  was  bidden. 

u\ow.  Pat/'  said  they,  "you'll  turn  the  corpse,  bi.it  if 
you  let  him  burn  you'll  be  tied  np  there  and  roasted  in 
his  place." 

Pat's  hair  stood  on  end,  and  the  cold  perspiration  poured 
from  his  forehead,  but  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  per 
form  hi?  dreadful  ta^k. 


138  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Seeing  him  fairly  embarked  in  it,  the  tall  men  went 
away. 

Soon,  however,  the  flames  rose  so  high  as  to  singe  the 
rope,  and  the  corpse  fell  with  a  great  thud  upon  the  fire, 
scattering  the  ashes  and  embers,  and  extracting  a  howl  of 
anguish  from  the  miserable  cook,  who  rushed  to  the  door, 
and  ran  for  his  life. 

He  ran  on  until  he  was  ready  to  drop  with  fatigue, 
when,  seeing  a  drain  overgrown  with  tall,  rank  grass,  he 
thought  he  would  creep  in  there  and  lie  hidden  till  morn 
ing. 

But  he  was  not  many  minutes  in  the  drain  before  he 
heard  the  heavy  tramping  again,  and  the  four  men  came 
up  with  their  burthen,  which  they  laid  down  on  the  edge4 
of  the  drain. 

" I'm  tired,"  said  one,  to  the  giant;  "it's  your  turn  to 
carry  him  a  piece  now." 

"Faix  and  troth,  Til  no  carry  him,"  replied  he,  "  but 
there's  Pat  Diver  in  the  drain,  why  wouldn't  he  come  out 
and  tak'  his  turn  ?  " 

"  Come  out,  Pat,  come  out,"  roared  all  the  men,  and  Pat, 
almost  dead  with  fright,  crept  out. 

He  staggered  on  under  the  weight  of  the  corpse  until  lie 
reached  Kiltown  Abbey,  a  ruin  festooned  with  ivy,  where 
the  brown  owl  hooted  all  night  long,  and  the  forgotten 
dead  slept  around  the  walls  under  dense,  matted  tangles 
of  brambles  and  ben- weed. 

No  one  ever  buried  there  now,  but  Pat's  tall  companions 
turned  into  the  wild  graveyard,  and  began  digging  a  grave. 

Pat,  seeing  them  thus  engaged,  thought  he  might  once 
more  try  to  escape,  and  climbed  up  into  a  hawthorn  tree 
in  the  fence,  hoping  to  be  hidden  in  the  boughs. 

"  I'm  tired,"  said  the  man  who  was  digging  the  grave ; 
"here,  take  the  spade," addressing  the  big  man,  "  it's  your 
burn" 

"  Faix  an"  troth,  it's  no  my  turn,1'  replied  he,  as  before. 
"  There's  Pat  Diver  in  the  tree,  why  wouldn't  he  come 
down  and  tak'  his  turn  ?  " 


FAR  DARRIG  IN  DONEGAL.  139 

Pat  came  down  to  take  the  spade,  but  just  then  the 
cocks  in  the  little  farmyards  and  cabins  round  the  abbey 
began  to  crow,  and  the  men  looked  at  one  another. 

"  We  must  go,''  said  they,  "  and  well  is  it  for  you,  Pat 
Diver,  that  the  cocks  crowed,  for  if  they  had  not,  you'd 
just  ha'  been  bundled  into  that  grave  with  the  corpse." 

Two  months  passed,  and  Pat  had  wandered  far  and 
wide  over  the  county  Donegal,  when  he  chanced  to  arrive 
at  Raphoe  during  a  fair. 

Among  the  crowd  that  filled  the  Diamond  he  came 
suddenly  on  the  big  man. 

"  How  are  yon,  Pat  Diver?"  said  he,  bending  down  to 
look  into  the  tinker's  face. 

"  You've,  the  advantage  of  me,  sir,  for  I  havna'  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  yon,"  faltered  Pat, 

uDo  yon  not  know  me.  Pat  ?  "  Whisper — u  When  you 
go  back  to  Umishoweii,  you'll  have  a  story  to  tell ! " 


THE  POOKA. 

THE  Pooka,  recte  Puca,  seems  essentially  an  animal  spirit. 
Some  derive  his  name  from  poc,  a  he-goat ;  and  speculative 
persons  consider  him  the  forefather  of  Shakespeare's 
"  Puck."  On  solitary  mountains  and  among  old  ruins  he 
lives,  "  grown  monstrous  with  much  solitude,"  and  is  of  the 
race  of  the  nightmare.  "  In  the  M  S.  story,  called  '  Mac-na- 
Michomhairle,'  of  uncertain  authorship,"  .writes  me  Mr. 
Douglas  Hyde,  "  we  read  that  '  out  of  a  certain  hill  in 
Leinster,  there  used  to  emerge  as  far  as  his  middle,  a 
plump,  sleek,  terrible  steed,  and  speak  in  human  voice 
to  each  person  .  about  November-day,  and  he  was  accus 
tomed  to  give  intelligent  and  proper  answers  to  such  as 
consulted  him  concerning  all  that  would  befall  them  until 
the  November  of  next  year.  And  the  people  used  to 
leave  gifts  and  presents  at  the  hill  until  the  coming  of 
Patrick  and  the  holy  clergy.  This  tradition  appears  to 
be  a  cognate  one  which  that  of  the  Puca."  Yes !  unless  it 
were  merely  an  auyh-iskka  \_each-uisge~\,  or  Water-horse. 
For  these,  we  are  told,  were  common  once,  and  used  to 
come  out  of  the  water  to  gallop  on  the  sands  and  in  the 
fields,  and  people  would  often  go  between  them  and  the 
marge  and  bridle  them,  and  they  would  make  the  finest 
of  horses  if  only  you  could  keep  them  away  from  sight  of 
the  water  ;  but  if  once  they  saw  a  glimpse  of  the  water, 
they  would  plunge  in  with  their  rider,  and  tear  him  to 
pieces  at  the  bottom.  It  being  a  November  spirit,  how 
ever,  tells  in  favor  of  the  Pooka,  for  November-day  is 
sacred  to  the  Pooka.  It  is  hard  to  realize  that  wild,  star 
ing  phantom  grown  sle.ek  and  civil. 

He  has  many  shapes — is  now  a  horse,  now  an  ass,  now 
140 


THE  PIPER  ANL)  THE  PUCA.  Idl 

a  bull,  now  a  goat,  now  an  eagle.     Like  all  spirits,  he  is 
only  half  in  the  world  of  form. 


THE  PIPER  AND  THE  PUCA. 

DOUGLAS    HYDE. 

Translated  literally  from  the  Irish  of  the  Leabbar  SgeulaigJte- 
aclita. 

Ix  the  old  times,  there  was  a  half  fool  living  in  Dun- 
more,  in  the  county  Galway,  and  although  he  was  exces 
sively  fond  of  music,  he  was  unable  to  learn  more  than  one 
tune,  and  that  was  the  "  Black  Rogue."  He  used  to  get  a 
good  deal  of  money  from  the  gentlemen,  for  they  used  to 
get  sport  out  of  him.  One  night  the  piper  was  coming  home 
from  a  house  where  there  had  been  a  dance,  and  he  half 
drunk.  When  he  came  to  a  little' bridge  that  was  up  by 
his  mother's  house,  he  squeezed  the  pipes  on,  and  began 
playing  the  "  Black  Rogue"  (an  rogaire  dubh).  The 
Puca  came  behind  him,  and  flung  him  up  on  his  own 
back.  There  were  long  horns  on  the  Puca,  and  the  piper 
got  a  good  grip  of  them,  and  then  he  said— 

"Destruction  on  you,  you  nasty  beast,  let  me  home.  I 
have  a  ten-penny  piece  in  my  pocket  for  my  mother,  and 
she  wants  snuff." 

"  Never  mind  your  mother,"  said  the  Puca,  "  but  keep 
your  hold.  If  you  fall,  you  will  break  your  neck  and 
your  pipes."  Then  the  Puca  said  to  him,  "  Play  up  for 
me  the  'Shan  Van  Voclit'  (an  t-seann-bhean  bhocht)." 

u  I  don't  know  it,"  said  the  piper. 

"  Xever  mind  whether  you  do  or  you  don't,"  said  the 
Puca.  "  Play  up,  and  I'll  make  you  know." 

The  piper  put  wind  in  his  bag,  and  he  played  such 
music  as  made  himself  wonder. 

"  Upon  my  word,  you're  a  fine  music-master,"  says  the 
piper  then  ;  "  but  tell  me  where  you're  for  bringing  me.v 

"  There's  a  great  feast  in  the  house  of  the  Banshee,  on 


U2  Iliisri  FATUY  TALKS. 

the  top  of  Croagh  Patrie  to-night,"  says  the  Plica,  "  and 
I'm  for  bringing  you  there  to  play  music,  and,  take  my 
word,  you'll  get  the  price  of  your  trouble." 

"  By  my  word,  you'll  save  me  a  journey,  then,"  says  the 
piper,  "  for  Father  William  put  a  journey  to  Croagh  Pat- 
ric  on  me,  because  I  stole  the  white  gander  from  him  last 
Martinmas." 

The  Puca  rushed  him  across  hills  and  bogs  and  rough 
places,  till  he  brought  him  to  the  top  of  Croagh  Patrie. 
Then  the  Plica  struck  three  blows  with  his  foot,  and  a 
great  door  opened,  and  they  passed  in  together,  into  a 
line  room. 

The  piper  saw  a  golden  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
and  hundreds  of  old  women  (cailleacha)  sitting  round 
about  it.  The  old  women  rose  up,  and  said,  "  A  hundred 
thousand  welcomes  to  you,  you  Puca  of  November  (na 
Samhna).  Who  is  this  you  have  with  you  ?  " 

"  The  best  piper  in  Ireland,"  says  the  Puca. 

One  of  the  old  women  struck  a  blow  on  the  ground, 
and  a  door  opened  in  the  side  of  the  wall,  and  what  should 
the  piper  see  coming  out  but  the  white  gander  which  he 
had  stolen  from  Father  William. 

"  By  my  conscience,  then,"  says  the  piper,  "  myself  and 
my  mother  ate  every  taste  of  that  gander,  only  one  wing, 
and  I  gave  that  to  Moy-rua  (Red  Mary),  and  it's  she  told 
the  priest  I  stole  his  gander." 

The  gander  cleaned  the  table,  and  carried  it  away,  and 
the  Puca  said,  "  Play  up  music  for  these  ladies." 

The  piper  played  up,  and  the  old  women  began  dancing, 
and  they  were  dancing  till  they  were  tired.  Then  Puca 
said  to  pay  the  piper,  and  every  old  women  drew  out  a 
gold  piece,  and  gave  it  to  him. 

"  By  the  tooth  of  Patrie,"  said  he,  "  I'm  as  rich  as  the 
son  of  a  lord." 

"  Come  with  me,"  says  the  Puca,  "  and  I'll  bring  you 
home." 

They  went  out  then,  and  just  as  he  was  going  to  rido 
on  the  Puca,  the  gander  came  up  to  him,  and  gave  him  a 


THE  PU'ER  AND  THE  PUCA.  1^3 

new  set  of  pi  pv-s.  The  1'i'icu  was  not  long  until  he  brought 
him  to  Dunmore,  and  he  threw  the  piper  off  tit  the  little 
bridge,  and  then  he.  told  him  to  go  home,  and  says  to  him, 
u  Von  have  two  things  now  that  you  never  had  before — 
you  have  sense  and  music  (cia.ll  agus  ceol). 

The  piper  went  home,  and  he  knocked  at  his  mother's 
door,  saying,  "  Let  me  in,  Tin  as  rich  as  a  lord,  and  I'm 
the  best  piper  in  Ireland." 

••  Yoif  re  drunk, "  said  the  mother. 

'•  Xo,  indeed,"  says  the  piper,  "I  haven't  drunk  a 
drop." 

The  mother  let  him  in,  and  he  gave  her  the  gold 
pieces,  and,  wi  Wait  now,"  says  he  "till  you  hear  the  music 
I'll  play." 

lie  buckled  on  the  pipes,  but  instead  of  music,  there 
came  a  sound  as  if  all  the  geese  and  ganders  in  Ireland 
were  screeching  together.  He  wakened  the  neighbors, 
ami  they  were  all  mocking  him,  until  he  put  on  the  old 
pipes,  and  then  he  played  melodious  music  for  them  ; 
and  after  that  he  told  them  all  he  had  gone  through  that 
night. 

The  next  morning,  when  his  mother  went  to  look  at 
the  gold  pieces,  there  was  nothing  there  but  the  leaves 
of  a  plant. 

The  piper  went  to  the  priest,  and  told  him  his  story, 
but  the  priest  would  not  believe  a  word  from  him,  until 
he  put  the  pipes  on  him,  and  then  the  screeching  of  the 
ganders  and  geese  began. 

"  Leave  my  sight,  you  thief,"  says  the  priest. 

But  nothing  would  do  the  piper  till  he  would  put  the 
old  pipes  on  him  to  show  the  priest  that  his  story  was 
true. 

He  buckled  on  the  old  pipes,  and  he  played  melodious 
music,  and  from  that  day  till  the  day  of  his  death,  there 
was  never  a  piper  in  the  county  Gal  way  was  as  good  as  he 
was. 


144:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

DANIEL  O'ROURKE. 

T.  CROFTON  CROKER. 

PEOPLE  may  have  heard  of  the  renowned  adventures  of 
Daniel  O'Rourke,  but  how  few  are  there  who  knew  that 
the  cause  of  all  his  perils,  above  and  below,  was  neither 
more  nor  less  than  his  having  slept  under  the  walls  of 
the  Pooka's  town.  I  knew  the  man  well.  He  lived  at 
the  bottom  of  Hungry  Hill,  just  at  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  road  as  you  go  towards  ]  Jan  try.  An  old  man  was 
he,  at  the  time  he  told  me  the  story,  with  gray  hair 
and  a  red  nose;  and  it  was  on  the  25th  of  June,  1813, 
that  I  heard  it  from  his  own  lips,  as  lie  sat  smoking  hi 
pipe  under  the  old  poplar  tree,  on  as  fine  an  evening  as 
ever  shone  from  the  sky.  I  was  going  to  visit  the  caves 
in  Dursey  Island,  having  spent  the  morning  at  Glen- 
gariff. 

"  I  am  often  axed  to  tell  it,  sir,'1  said  he.  "  so  that  this 
is  not  the  first  time.  The  master's  son,  you  see,  had 
come  from  beyond  foreign  parts  in  France  and  Spain  as 
young  gentlemen  used  to  go  before  Buonaparte  or  any 
such  was  heard  of ;  and  sure  enough  there  was  a  dinner 
given  to  all  the  people  on  the  ground,  gentle  and  simple, 
high  and  low,  rich  and  poor.  The  ould  gentlemen  were 
the  gentlemen  after  all,  saving  your  honor's  presence. 
They'd  swear  at  a  body  a  little,  to  be  sure,  and,  may  be, 
give  one  a  cut  of  a  whip  now  and  then,  but  we  were  no 
losers  by  it  in  the  end ;  and  they  were  so  easy  and  civil, 
and  kept  such  rattling  houses,  and  thousands  of  welcomes ; 
and  there  was  no  grinding  for  rent,  and  there  was  hardly 
a  tenant  on  the  estate  that  did  not  taste  of  his  landlord's 
bounty  often  and  often  in  a  year ;  but  now  it's  another 
thing.  No  matter  for  that,  sir,  for  I'd  better  be  telling 
you  my  story. 


DANIEL  O'ROURKE.  145 

"Well,  \ve  had  every  thing  of  the  best,  and  plenty  of 
it;  and  we  ate,  and  we  drank,  and  we  danced,  and  the 
young  master  by  the  same  token  danced  with  Peggy 
.Harry,  from  the  IJohereen— a  lovely  young  couple  they 
were,  though  they  are  both  lo\v  enough  now.  To  make 
a  long  story  short,  [  got,  as  a  body  may  say,  the  same 
tiling  as  tipsy  almost,  for  I  can't  remember  ever  at  all. 
no  ways,  how  it  was  I  left  the  place;  only  I  did  leave  it, 
that's  certain.  Well,  I  thought,  for  all  that,  in  myself, 
I'd  just  step  to  Molly  Cronohan's,  the  fairy  woman,  to 
speak  a  word  about  the  bracket  heifer  that  was  bewitched  ; 
and  so  as  I  was  crossing  the  stepping-stones  of  the  ford 
of  Ballyashenogh,  and  was  looking  up  at  the  stars  and 
blessing  myself  for  why?  it  was  Lidy-day -•  I  missed 
my  foot,  and  souse  I  fell  into  the  water.  k  Death  alive!' 
thought  I,  c  I'll  be  drowned  now!'  However,  I  began 
swimming,  swimming,  swimming  away  for  the  dear  life, 
till  at  last  I  got  ashore,  somehow  or  other,  but  never  the 
one  of  me  can  tell  how,  upon  a  ///xx<>///^-  island. 

UI  wandered  and  wandered  about  there,  without  know 
ing  where  I  wandered,  until  at  last  I  got  into  a  big  bog. 
The  moon  was  shining  as  bright  as  day,  or  your  fair  ladv's 
eyes,  sir  (with  your  pardon  for  mentioning  her),  and  I 
looked  east  and  west,  and  north  and  south,  and  every 
way,  and  nothing  did  F  see  but  bog,  bog,  bog— I  could 
never  rind  out  how  I  got  into  it ;  and  mv  heart  grew 
cold  with  fear,  for  sure  and  certain  I  was  that  it  would 
be  my  Iwrrin  place.  So  \  sat  down  upon  a  stone  which, 
as  good  luck  would  have  it,  was  close  by  me,  and  I  began 
to  scratch  my  head,  and  sing  the  r/A///w — when  all  of 
a  sudden  the  moon  grew  black,  and  I  looked  up,  and  saw 
something  for  all  the  world  as  if  it  was  moving  down 
between  me  and  it,  and  I  could  not  tell  what  it  was. 
Down  it  came  with  a  pounce,  and  looked  at  me  full  in  the 
face;  and  what  was  it  but  an  eagle  ?  as  fine  a  one  as  ever 
flew  from  the  kingdom  of  Kerry.  So  he  looked  at  me  in 
the  face,  and  says  he  to  me,  '  Daniel  O'Rourke,'  says  he, 
4  how  do  you  do  ?  '  4  Very  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,'  says  I  ; 

JO 


Mt;  HUSH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

••  I  hope  you're  well  ; '  wondering  out  of  my  senses  all  the 
time  how  an  eagle  came  to  speak  like  a  Christian.  '  What 
brings  you  here,  Dan,"  says  he.  'Nothing  at  all,  sir,'  says 
I  ;  'only  I  wish  T  Avas  safe  home  again.'  'Is  it  out  of  the 
island  you  want  to  go.  Dan  ?  '  says  he.  '  Tis,  sir,'  says  I : 
so  I  up  and  told  him  how  I  had  taken  a  drop  too  much, 
and  fell  into  the  water ;  how  I  swam  to  the  island  ;  and 
how  I  got  into  the  bog  and  did  not  know  my  Avay  out  of 
it.  'Dan,' says  he,  after  a  minute's  thought,  ' though  it 
is  very  improper  for  you  to  get  drunk  on  Lady-day,  yet 
as  you  are  a  decent  sober  man,  who  'tends  mass  well,  and 
never  fling  stones  at  me  or  mine,  nor  cries  out  after  us 
in  the  fields — my  life  for  yours,'  says  he ;  '  so  get  up  on 
my  back,  and  grip  me  well  for  fear  you'd  fall  oft',  and  I'll 
fly  you  out  of  the  bog.'  '  I  am  afraid,'  says  I,  '  your 
honor's  making  game  of  me  ;  for  who  ever  heard  of  rid 
ing  a  horseback  on  an  eagle  before  ?  '  '  Ton  the  honor 
of  a  gentleman,'  says  he,  putting  his  right  foot  on  his 
breast,  '  I  am  quite  in  earnest :  and  so  now  either  take 
my  offer  or  starve  in  the  bog — besides,  I  see  that  your 
weight  is  sinking  the  stone.' 

"  It  was  true  enough  as  he  said,  for  I  found  the  stone 
every  minute  going  from  under  me.  I  had  no  choice ;  so 
thinks  I  to  myself,  faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,  and 
this  is  fair  persuadance.  '  I  thank  your  honor,'  says  I, 
'  for  the  loan  of  your  civility  ;  and  I'll  take  your  kind 
offer.'  I  therefore  mounted  upon  the  back  of  the  eagle, 
and  held  him  tight  enough  by  the  throat,  and  up  he  flew 
in  the  air  like  a  lark.  Little  I  knew  the  trick  he  was 
going  to  serve?  me.  Up — up — up,  God  knows  how  far  up 
he  flew.  '  Why  then,'  said  I  to  him — thinking  he  did  not 
know  the  right  road  home — very  civilly,  because  why  ? 
I  w-is  in  his  power  entirely;  'sir,'  says  I,  ' please  your 
honor's  glory,  and  with  humble  submission  to  your  better 
judgment,  if  you'd  fly  down  a  bit,  you're  now  just  over 
my  cabin,  and  I  could  be  put  down  there,  and  many  thanks 
to  your  worship.' 

" 4  Arrah,   Dan,'  said  he,  'do   you   think   me   a  fool? 


DANIEL  O'UOURKE.  147 

Look  down  in  the  next  Held,  and  don't  you  see  two  men 
and  a  gun?  By  my  word  it  would  be  no  joke  to  be  shot 
this  way,  to  oblige  a  drunken  blackguard  that  I  picked 
up  off  a  could  stone  in  a  bog.'  k  Bother  you,'  said  I  to 
myself,  but  I  did  not  speak  out,  for  where  was  the  use? 
Well,  sir,  up  he  kept,  living,  Hying,  and  T  asking  him 
every  minute  to  fly  down,  and  all  to  no  use.  *  Where  in 
the  world  are  you  going,  sir?1  says  1  to  him.  'Hold 
your  tongue,  Dan,'  says  he  :  'Mind  your  own  business, 
and  don't  be  interfering  with  the  business  of  other  people.' 
'Faith,  this  is  my  business,  I  think,'  says  I.  k  lie  quiet, 
Dan,'  says  he  :  so  I  said  ho  more. 

"At  last  where  should  we  eome  to,  but  to  the  moon 
itself.  Xow  you  can't  see  it  from  this,  but  there  is,  or 
there  was  in  my  time,  a  reaping-hook  sticking  out  of  the, 
side  of  the  moon,  this  way  (drawing  the  ligure  on  the 
ground  with  the  end  of  his  stick). 

"'  Dan,'  said  the  eagle,  w  I'm  tired  with  this  long  tlv  ;  I 
had  no  notion  'twas  so  far.'  fc  And  my  lord,  sir,'  said  I, 
4  who  in  the  world  //.m/ you  to  rly  so  far  was  it  I  ?  did 
not  I  beg  and  pray  and  beseech  you  to  stop  half  an  hour 
ago?'  'There's  no  use  talking,  Dan,'  said  he:  k  I'm  tired 
had  enough,  so  you  must  get  off,  and  sit  down  on  the 
moon  until  I  rest  myself.'  'Is  it  sit  down  on  the  moon?' 
said  I ;  'is  it  upon  that  little  round  thing,  then?  why, 
then,  sure  I'd  fall  off  in  a  minute,  and  be  kilt  and  spilt, 
and  smashed  all  to  bits  ;  you  are  a  vile  deceiver — so  you 
are.'  'Not  at  all,  Dan,'  said  he  ;  'you  can  catch  fast  hold 
of  the  reaping-hook  that's  sticking  out  of  the  side  of  the 
moon,  and  'twill  keep  you  up/  'I  won't  then,'  said  I. 
'  May  be  not,'  said  he,  quite  quiet.  '  If  you  don't,  my  man, 
I  shall  just  give  you  a  shake,  and  one  slap  of  my  wing, 
and  send  you  down  to  the  ground,  where  every  bone  in 
your  body  shall  be  smashed  as  small  as  a  drop  of  dew  011 
a  cabbage-leaf  in  the  morning/  'Why,  then,  I'm  in  a 
fine  way,'  said  I  to  myself,  '  ever  to  have  come  along  with 
the  likes  of  you ; '  and  so  giving  him  a  hearty  curse  in 
Irish,  for  fear  he'd  know  what  I  said,  T  got  off  his  back 


148  IRISH  FAIRY  TAL&S. 

with  a  heavy  heart,  took  hold  of  the  reaping-hook,  and 
sat  down  upon  the  moon,  and  a  mighty  cold  seat  it  was, 
I  can  tell  you  that. 

"  AVhen  he  had  me  there  fairly  landed,  he  turned  about 
on  me,  and  said, ;  Good  morning  to  you,  Daniel  O'Rourke,' 
said  he  ;  '  I  think  I've  nicked  you  fairly  now.  You  robbed 
my  nest  last  year  '  ('was  true  enough  for  him,  but  how  he 
found  it  out  is  hard  to  say), '  and  in  return  you  are  freely 
welcome  to  cool  your  heels  dangling  upon  the  moon  like 
a  cockthrow.' 

" '  Is  that  all,  and  is  this  the  way  you  leave  me,  you 
brute,  you,'  says  I.  '  You  ugly  unnatural  baste,  and  is 
this  the  way  you  serve  me  at  last  ?  Bad  luck  to  yourself, 
with  your  hook'd  nose,  and  to  all  your  breed,  you  black 
guard.'  'Twas  all  to  no  manner  of  use  ;  he  spread  out  his 
great  big  wings,  burst  out  a  laughing,  and  flew  away  like 
lightning.  I  bawled  after  him  to  stop  ;  but  I  might  have 
called  and  bawled  forever,  without  his  minding  me. 
Away  he  went,  and  I  never  saw  him  from  that  day  to 
this — sorrow  fly  away  with  him !  You  may  be  sure  I 
was  in  a  disconsolate  condition,  and  kept  roaring  out  for 
the  bare  grief,  when  all  at  once  a  door  opened  right  in 
the  middle  of  the  moon,  creaking  on  its  hinges  as  if  it  had 
not  been  opened  for  a  month  before,  I  suppose  they  never 
thought  of  greasing  'em,  and  out  there  walks, — who  do 
you  think,  but  the  man  in  the  moon  himself  ?  I  knew 
him  by  his  bush. 

" 4  Good  morrow  to  you,  Daniel  O'Rourke,'  said  he  ; 
4  how  do  you  do  ? '  '  Very  well,  thank  your  honor,'  said 
I.  'I  hope  your  honor's  well.'  '  What  brought  you 
here,  Dan  ? '  said  he.  So  I  told  him  how  I  was  a  little 
overtaken  in  liquor  at  the  master's,  and  how  I  was  cast 
on  a  dissolute  island,  and  how  I  lost  my  way  in  the  bog, 
and  how  the  thief  of  an  eagle  promised  to  fly  me  out  of 
it,  and  how,  instead  of  that,  he  had  fled  me  up  to  the 
moon. 

" '  Dan,'  said  the  man  in  the  moon,  taking  a  pinch  of 
snuff  when  I  was  done,  '  you  must  not  stay  here.'  '  In- 


DANIEL  O'ROURKE.  149 

deed,  sir,'  says  I,  '  'tis  much  against  my  will  I'm  here  at 
all ;  but  how  am  I  to  go  back  ?  '  '  That's  your  business,' 
said  he ;  '  Dan,  mine  is  to  tell  you  that  here  you  must 
not  stay  ;  so  be  off  in  less  than  no  time.'  '  I'm  doing  no 
harm,'  says  I,  '  only  holding  on  hard  by  the  reaping-hook, 
lest  I  fall  oft'.'  '  That's  what  you  must  not  do,  Dan,1  says 
he.  'Pray,  sir,'  says  I,  'may  I  ask  how  many  you  are  in 
family,  that  you  would  not  give  a  poor  traveler  lodging: 
Tin  sure  'tis  not  so  often  you're  trouHed  with  strongers 
coming  to  see  you,  for  His  a  long  way.'  k  I'm  by  myself, 
Dan,'  s'-iys  lie  ;  'but  you'd  better  let  go  the  reaping-hook.' 
4  Faith,  and  with  your  leave,'  says  I,  '  Til  not  let  go  the 
grip,  and  the  more  you  bids  me,  the  more  I  won't  let  go; 
- — so  I  will.'  '  You  had  better,  Dan,'  says  lie  again.  4  Why, 
then,  my  little,  fellow,'  says  I,  taking  the  whole  weight 
of  him  with  my  eye  from  head  to  foot,  'there  are  two 
words  to  that  bargain ;  and  I'll  not  budge,  but  you  may 
if  you  like.'  '  We'll  see  how  that  is  to  be,'  says  he;  and 
back  he  went,  giving  the  door  such  a  great  bang  after 
him  (for  it  was  plain  he  was  huffed)  that  I  thought  the 
moon  and  all  would  fall  down  with  it. 

"Well,  I  was  preparing  myself  to  try  strength  with  him, 
when  back  again  he  comes,  with  the  kitchen  cleaver  in  his 
hand,  and,  without  saying  a  word,  he  gives  two  bangs  to 
the  handle  of  the  reaping-hook  that  was  keeping  me  up, 
and  irfi<ij>!  it  came  in  two.  '(rood  morning  to  yon,  Dan,' 
says  the  spiteful  little  old  blackguard,  when  he  saw  me 
cleanly  falling  down  with  a  bit  of  the  handle  in  my  hand  ; 
'I  thank  you  for  your  visit,  and  fair  weather  after  you, 
Daniel.'  I  had  not  time  to  make  any  answer  to  him,  for 
I  was  tumbling  over  and  over,  and  rolling  and  roiling,  at 
the  rate  of  a  fox-hunt.  'God  help  me  ! '  says  I,  'but  this 
is  a  pretty  pickle  for  a  decent  man  to  be  seen  in  at  Piis 
time  of  night :  I  am  now  sold  fairly.'  The  word  was  not 
out  of  my  mouth  when,  whiz  !  what  should  fly  by  close 
to  my  ear  but  a  flock  of  wild  geese,  all  the  way  from  my 
own  bog  of  Ballyasheenogh,  else  how  should  they  know 
me?  The  o*/M  gander,  who  vn-p  their  general,  turning 


150  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

about  his  head,  cried  out  to  me,  'Is  that  you,  Dan?' 
'  The  same,'  said  I,  not  a  bit  daunted  now  at  what  he  said, 
for  I  was  by  this  time  used  to  all  kinds  of  bedevibnentj 
and,  besides,  I  knew  him  of  oidd.  'Good  morrow  to  you,' 
says  he,  '  Daniel  O'Rourke ;  how  are  you  in  health  this 
morning  ?  '  '  Very  well,  sir,'  says  I,  '  I  thank  you  kindly,' 
drawing  my  breath,  for  I  was  mightily  in  want  of  some. 
'  I  hope  your  honor's  the  same.'  '  I  think  'tis  falling  you  are, 
Daniel,'  says  he.  '  You  may  say  that,  sir,'  says  I.  '  And 
where  are  you  going  all  the  way  so  fast  ?  '  said  the  gander. 
So  I  told  him  how  I  had  taken  the  drop,  and  how  I  came 
on  the  island,  and  how  I  lost  my  way  in  the  bog,  and  how 
the  thief  of  an  eagle  flew  me  up  to  the  moon,  and  how  the 
man  in  the  moon  turned  me  out.  '  Dan,'  said  he,  '  I'll 
save  you :  put  out  your  hand  and  catch  me  by  the  leg, 
and  I'll  fly  you  home.'  '  Sweet  is  your  hand  in  a  pitcher 
of  honey,  my  jewel,'  says  I,  though  all  the  time  I  thought 
within  myself  that  I  don't  much  trust  you ;  but  there  was 
no  help,  so  I  caught  the  gander  by  the  leg,  and  away  I 
and  the  other  geese  flew  after  him  as  fast  as  hops. 

"  We  flew,  and  AVC  flew,  and  we  flew,  until  we  came 
right  over  the  wide  ocean.  I  knew  it  well,  for  I  saw  Cape 
Clear  to  my  right  hand,  sticking  up  out  of  the  water. 
'  Ah,  my  lord,'  said  I  to  the  goose,  for  I  thought  it  best  to 
keep  a  civil  tongue  in  my  head  any  way,  '  fly  to  land  if 
you  pleose.'  '  It  is  impossible,  you  see,  Dan,'  said  he,  '  for 
a  while,  because  you  see  we  are  going  to  Arabia.'  4To 
Arabia ! '  said  I ;  '  that's  surely  some  place  in  foreign 
parts,  far  away.  Oh !  Mr.  Goose  :  why  then,  to  be  sure, 
I'm  a  man  to  be  pitied  among  you.'  '  Whist,  whist,  you 
fool,'  said  he,  'hold  your  tongue;  T  tell  you  Arabia  is  a 
very  decent  sort  of  place,  as  like  West  Carbery  as  one  egg 
is  like  another,  only  there  is  a  little  more  sand  there.' 

tk.Tus(  us  \ve  were  talking,  a  ship  hove  in  sight,  scudding 
so  beautiful  before  the  wind.  '  Ah  !  then,  sir,'  said  I,  '  will 
you  drop  me  on  the  ship,  if  you  please?'  4We,  are  not 
fair  over  it,'  said  he  ;  'if  I  dropped  you  now  you  would  go 
into  the  sea.'  'I  would  not,1.  ;-;ays  I;  '[  know 


DANIEL  O'ROURKE.  1  5  1 

1  letter  than  that,  for  it  is  just  as  clean  under  us,  so  let  me 
drop  now  at  once." 

" '  If  you  must,  you  must,' said  he;  'there,  take  your 
own  way  ; '  and  he  opened  his  claw,  and  faith  he  was  right 
— sure  enough  I  came  down  plump  into  the  very  bottom 
of  the  salt  sea!  Down  to  the  very  bottom  I  went,  and  I 
gave  myself  up  then  forever,  when  a  whale  walked  up  to 
me,  scratching  himself  after  his  night's  sleep,  and  looked 
me  full  in  the  face,  and  never  the  word  did  he  say,  but 
lifting  up  his  tail,  he  splashed  me  all  over  again  with  the 
cold  salt  water  till  then?  wasn't  a  dry  stitch  upon  my 
whole  carcass!  and  I  heard  somebody  say — 'twas  a  voice 
I  knew,  too— '  Get  up,  you  drunken  brute,  off  o'  that:' 
and  with  that  I  woke  up,  and  there  was  Judy  with  a  tub 
full  of  water,  which  she  was  splashing  all  over  me-— for, 
rest  her  soul  !  though  she  was  a  good  wife,  she  never 
could  bear  to  see  me  in  drink,  and  had  a  bitter  hand  of 
her  own. 

"'(iet  up,"  said  she  again:  'and  of  all  places  in  the 
parish  would  no  place  wirrv  your  turn  to  lie  down  upon 
but  under  the  null  walls  of  Carrigapooka  ?  an  uneasy 
resting  I  am  sure  yon  had  of  it.'  And  sure  enough  I  had  : 
for  I  was  fairly  bothered  out  of  my  senses  with  eagles, 
and  men  of  the  moons,  and  Hying  ganders,  and  whales, 
driving  me  through  bogs,  and  up  to  the  moon,  and  down 
to  the  bottom  of  the  given  ocean.  If  I  was  in  drink  ten 
times  over,  long  would  it  be  before  I'd  lie  down  in  the 
same  spot  again,  I  know  that." 


152  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

THE  KILDARE  POOKA.* 

PATRICK    KKXXKDY. 

MR.  II—  -R ,  when  he  was  alive,  used  to  live  a 

good  deal  in  Dublin,  and  he  was  once  a  great  while  out  of 
the  country  on  account  of  the  "  ninety- eight "  business. 

]>ut  the  servants  kept  on  in  the  big  house  at  Rath all 

the  same  as  if  the  family  was  at  home.  Well,  they  used 
to  he  frightened  out  of  their  lives  after  going  to  their  beds 
with  the  banging  of  the  kitchen-door,  and  the  clattering 
of  fire-irons,  and  the  pots  and  plates  and  dishes.  One 
evening  they  sat  up  ever  so  long,  keeping  one  another  in 
heart  with  telling  stories  about  ghosts  and  fetches,  and 
that  wlien — what  would  you  have  of  it  ? — 'the  little  scul 
lery  boy  that  used  to  be  sleeping  over  the  horses,  and 
could  not  get  room  at  the  fire,  crept  into  the  hot  hearth, 
and  when  he  got  tired  listening  to  the  stories,  sorra  fear 
him,  but  he  fell  dead  asleep. 

Well  and  good  after  they  were  all  gone  and  the  kitchen 
lire  raked  up,  he  was  woke  with  the  noise  of  the  kitchen 
door  opening,  and  the  trampling  of  an  ass  on  the  kitchen 
floor.  He  peeped  out,  and  what  should  he  see  but  a  big 
ass.  sure  enough,  sitting  on  his  curabingo  and  yawning 
before  the  tire.  After  a  little  he  looked  about  him,  and 
be&'an  scratching  his  ears  as  if  he  was  quite  tired,  and  says 
he,  "  F  may  as  well  begin  first  as  last."  The  poor  boy's 
teeth  began  to  chatter  in  his  head,  for  says  he,  "Now he's 
Lvoiif  to  ate  me;  "  but  the  fellow  with  the  long  ears  and 
tail  on  him  had  something  else  to  do.  He  stirred  the  fire, 
ami  then  lie  brought  in  a  pail  of  water  from  the  pump, 
aii-1  tilled  a  big  pot  that  he  put  on  the  fire  before  he  went 
out.  He  then  put  in  his  hand — foot,  I  mean — into  the 
hot  hearth,  and  pulled  out  the  little  boy.  He  let  a  roar 
out  of  him  with  the  fright,  but  the  pooka  only  looked  at 
*  Legendary  Fictions  of  the  Irish  Celts,—  Macmilla.n. 


THE  KILDARE  POOKA.  1,53 

him,  and  thrust  out  his  lower  lip  to  show  how  little  he 
valued  him,  and  then  he  pitched  him  into  his  pew  again. 

A  Veil,  he  then  lay  down  before  the  lire  till  he  heard  the 
boil  coming  on  the  water,  and  maybe  there  wasn't  a  plate, 
or  ;i  dish,  or  a  spoon  on  the  dresser  that  he  didn't  fetch 
am:  put  into  the  pot,  and  wash  and  dry  the  whole  bill  if  of 
'em  as  well  as  eVr  a  kitchen-maid  from  that  to  Dublin 
town,  lie  then  put  all  of  them  up  on  their  places  on  the 
shelves;  and  if  he  didn't  give  a  good  s \vee.pi if  to  the 
kitchen,  leave  it  till  again.  Then  he  comes  and  sits  foment 
the  boy,  let  down  one  of  his  ears,  and  cocked  up  the 
other,  and  gave  a  grin.  The  poor  fellow  strove  to  roar 
out,  but  not  a  dheeg  'ml  come  out  of  his  throat.  The  last 
thing  the  pooka  done  was  to  rake  up  the  tire,  and  walk 
out,  giving  such  a  slap  o'  the  door,  that  the  boy  thought 
the  house  couldn't  help  tumbling  down. 

AVell,  to  ho  sure  if  there  wasn't  a  hullabnllo  next  morn 
ing  when  the  poor  fellow  told  his  story  !  They  could 
talk  of  nothing  else  the  Avhole  day.  One  said  one  thing, 
another  said  another,  but  a  fat,  la/y  scullery  girl  said  the 
Avittiest.  thing  of  all.  "  Muslia  !  "  says  she,  "  if  the  pooka 
does  be  cleaning  up  everything  that  way  when  we  are 
asleep,  what  should  we  be  slaving  ourselves  for  doing  his 
work?"  "  X/IH.  f/H.  d/ieuw,"*  says  another;  "them's  the 
wisest  words  you  ever  said,  Kauth ;  it's  meeself  won't 
contradict  you." 

So  said,  so  done.  Not  a  bit  of  a  plate  or  dish  saw  a 
drop  of  water  that  evening,  and  not  a  besom  was  laid  on 
the  floor,  and  every  one  went  to  bed  soon  after  sundown. 
Xext  morning  everything  was  as  fine  as  fine  in  the  kitchen, 
and  the  lord  mayor  might  eat  his  dinner  off  the  flags. 
It  was  great  ease  to  the  lazy  servants,  you  may  depend, 
and  everything  went  on  well  till  a  foolhardy  gag  of  a  boy 
said  he  would  stay  up  one  night  and  have  a  chat  with  the 
pooka. 

He  was  a  little  daunted  when  the  door  was  thrown  open 
and  the  ass  marched  up  to  the  fire. 

*  Meant  for  seadh  go  dcimhin — i.  c,,  yes,  indeed. 


154  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  An  then,  sir,"  says  he,  at  last,  picking  up  courage,  "if 
it  isn't  taking  a  liberty,  might  I  ax  who  you  are,  and  wh y 
you  are  so  kind  as  to  do  half  of  the  day's  work  for  the 
girls  every  night  ?  "  "  No  liberty  at  all,"  says  the  pooka, 
says  he :  "  I'll  tell  you,  and  welcome.  I  was  a  servant  in 
the  time  of  Squire  R.'s  father,  and  was  the  laziest  rog  le 
that  ever  was  clothed  and  fed,  and  done  nothing  for  it. 
When  my  time  came  for  the  other  world,  this  is  the 
punishment  was  laid  on  me — to  come  here  and  do  all  this 
labor  every  night,  and  then  go  out  in  the  cold.  It  isn't 
so  bad  in  the  fine  weather ;  but  if  you  only  knew  what  it 
is  to  stand  with  your  head  between  your  legs,  facing  the 
storm  from  midnight  to  sunrise,  on  a  bleak  winter  night." 
"  And  could  we  do  anything  for  your  comfort,  my  poor 
fellow  ?  "  says  the  boy,  "  Musha,  I  don't  know,"  says  the 
pooka ;  "  but  I  think  a  good  quilted  frieze  coat  would 
held  to  keep  the  life  in  me  them  long  nights."  Why 
then,  in  troth,  we'd  be  the  ungratefullest  of  people  if  AVC 
didn't  feel  for  you." 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  next  night  but  two  the 
boy  was  there  again ;  and  if  he  didn't  delight  the  poor 
pooka,  holding  up  a  fine  warm  coat  before  him,  it's  no 
nmther!  Betune  the  pooka  and  the  man,  his  legs  was 
got  into  the  four  arms  of  it,  and  it  was  buttoned  down  the 
breast  and  the  belly,  and  he  was  so  pleased  he  walked  up 
to  the  glass  to  see  how  he  looked.  "  Well,"  says  he,  "  it's 
a  long  lane  that  has  no  turning.  I  am  much  obliged  to 
you  and  your  fellow-servants.  You  have  made  me  happy 
at  last.  Good-night  to  you." 

So  he  was  walking  out,  but  the  other  cried,  "  Och  !  sure 
your  going  too  soon.  What  about  the  washing  and 
sweeping  ?  '  "  Ah,  you  may  tell  the  girls  that  they  must 
now  get  their  turn.  My  punishment  was  to  last  till  I 
was  thought  worthy  of  a  reward  for  the  way  I  done  my 
duty.  You'll  see  me  no  more."  And  no  more  they  did, 
and  right  sorry  they  were  for  having  been  in  such  a  hurry 
to  reward  the  ungrateful  pooka. 


THE    BANSHEE. 

[Tin:  b<inxh<:<}  (from  IHIK  [A^/>/],  a  woman,  and  ,tjn-fi 
[x/V/^],  a  fairy)  is  an  attendant  fairy  that  follows  the  old 
families,  and  none  hut  them,  and  wails  hefore  a  death. 
Many  have  seen  her  as  she  goes  wailing  and  clapping  her 
hands.  The  keen  [rr/o///c],  the  funeral  cry  of  the  peas 
antry,  is  said  to  he  an  imitation  of  her  cry.  When  more 
than  one  hanshee  is  present,  and  they  wail  and  sing  in 
chorus,  it  is  for  the  death  of  some  holy  or  great  one.  An 
omen  that  sometimes  accompanies  the  banshee  is  the  /-o///-//- 
,f_/,,,//vr  \_coi ste-bodh<u'~\  --an  immense  black  coach,  mounted 
by  a  cottin,  and  drawn  by  headless  horses  driven  by  a  />////</- 
lmn.  It  will  go  rumbling  to  your  door,  and  if  you  open  it, 
according  to  Croker,  a  basin  of  blood  will  he  thrown  in  your 
face.  These  headless  phantoms  are  found  elsewhere, 
than  in  Ireland.  In  1X<»7  two  of  the  sentries  stationed 
outside  St.  James's  Park  died  of  fright.  A  headless 
woman,  the  upper  part  of  her  body  naked,  used  to  pass 
at  midnight  and  scale  the  railings.  After  a  time  the 
sentries  were  stationed  no  longer  at  the  haunted  spot.  In 
Norway  the  heads  of  corpses  were  cut  oft'  to  make  their 
ghosts  feeble.  Thus  came  into  existence  the  ])nlluhfin$, 

*  We  have  other  omens  beside  the  Banshee  and  tlie  Dullalian 
and  the  Coach-a-Bower.  I  know  one  family  where  death  is  an 
nounced  by  the  cracking  of  a  whip.  Some  families  are  attended 
by  phantoms  of  ravens  or  other  birds.  When  MeManus,  of  '48 
celebrity,  was  sitting  by  hisvlying  brother,  a  bird  of  vulture-like 
appearance  came  through  the  window  and  lighted  on  the  breast 
of  the  dying  man.  The  tsvo  watched  in  terror,  not  daring  to 
drive  it  off.  It  crouched  there,  bright-eyed,  till  the  soul  left  the 
body.  It  was  considered  a  most  evil  omen.  Lefanu  worked  this 
into  a  tale.  I  have  good  authority  for  tracing  its  origin  to 
MeManus  and  his  brother. 

155 


KM)  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

perhaps ;  unless,  indeed,  they  are  descended  from  that 
Irish  giant  Avho  sAvam  across  the  Channel  Avith  his  head 
in  his  teeth. — Ei>.] 

HOW  THOMAS  CONNOLLY  MET  THE  BANSHEE. 

J.     TODHUXTER. 

AAV,  the  banshee,  sir?  Well,  sir,  as  I  Avas  striving  to 
tell  ye,  I  Avas  going  home  from  Avork  one  day,  from  Mr. 
Cassidy's  that  I  tould  ye  of,  in  the  dusk  o'  the  evening. 
I  had  more  nor  a  mile — aye,  it  Avas  nearer  tAvo  miles — to 
thrack  to,  Avhere  I  Avas  lodgin'  Avith  a  dacent  widdy 
woman  I  kneAV,  Biddy  Maguire  be  name,  as  to  be  near  me 
work. 

It  was  the  first  Aveek  in  November,  an'  a  lonesome  road 
I  had  to  travel,  an'  dark  enough,  Avid  threes  above  it ;  an' 
about  half-Avays  there  Avas  a  bit  of  a  brudge  I  had  to  cross, 
over  one  o'  them  little  sthrames  that  runs  into  the  T)od- 
dher.  I  Avalked  on  in  the  middle  iv  the  road,  for  there 
was  no  toe-path  at  that  time,  Misther  Harry,  nor  for 
many  a  long  day  afther  that ;  but,  as  I  Avas  sayin',  I 
walked  along  till  I  come  nigh  upon  the  brudge,  where  the 
road  was  a  bit  open,  an'  there,  right  enough,  I  seen  the 
hog's  back  o'  the  ould-fashioned  brudge  that  used  to  be 
there  till  it  Avas  pulled  doAvn,  an'  a  Avhite  mist  steamin' 
up  out  o'  the  wather  all  around  it. 

Well,  noAV,  Misther  Harry,  often  as  I'd  passed  by  the 
place  before,  that  night  it  seemed  sthrange  to  me,  an'  like 
a  place  ye  might  see  in  a  dhrame ;  an'  as  I  come  up  to  it  I 
began  to  feel  a  could  Avind  bloAvin'  through  the  hollow  o' 
me  heart.  "Musha,  Thomas,"  sez  I  to  meself,  "is  it  yer- 
self  that's  in  it  ?  "  sez  I ;  "  or,  if  it  is,  Avhat's  the  matter 
wid  ye  at  all,  at  all  ?  "  sez  I;  so  I  put  a  bould  face  on  it, 
an'  I  made  asthruggle  to  set  one  leg  afore  the  other,  ontil 
I  came  to  the  rise  o'  the  brudge.  And  there,  God  be 
good  to  us  !  in  a  can  tie  o'  the  wall  I  seen  an  ould  woman, 
as  I  thought,  sittin'  on  her  hunkers,  all  crouched  together, 


THE  BANSHEE.  157 

an*   her  head  bowed   down,    seemin'ly   in   the   greatest 
affliction. 

Well,  sir,  I  pitied  the  ould  craythur,  an'  though  I  wasn't 
worth  a  thraneen,  for  the  mortial  fright  I  was  in,  T  up  an' 
sez  to  her,  "  That's  a  co \vlcl  lodgin"  for  ye,  ma'am."  Well, 
the  sorra  ha'porth  she  sez  to  that,  nor  tuk  no  more  notice  o' 
me  than  if  I  hadn't  let  a  word  out  o'  me,  hut  kep' roekin' 
herself  to  an'  fro,  as  if  her  heart  was  breakin' ;  so  T  sez  to 
her  again,  u  Eh,  ma'am,  is  there  anythin'  the  matter  wid 
ye?"  An'  I  made  for  to  touch  her  on  the  shoulder,  orTy 
somethin'  stopt  me,  for  as  I  looked  closer  at  her  I  saw  she 
was  no  more  an  ould  woman  nor  she  was  an  ould  cat. 
The  first  thing  I  tuk  notice  to,  Misther  Many,  was  her 
hair,  that  was  stlireelin'  down  over  her  showldhers.  an'  a 
good  yard  on  the  ground  on  aich  side  of  her.  ( ).  be  the 
hoky  farmer,  but  that  was  the  hair!  The  likes  of  it  T 
never  seen  on  mortial  woman,  young  or  ould,  before  nor 
sense.  It  grew  as  sthrong  out  of  her  as  out  of  e'er  a  young 
slip  of  a  girl  ye  could  see  ;  but  the  color  of  it  was  a  mis- 
thery  to  describe.  The  first  squint  I  got  of  it  I  thought 
it  was  silvery  gray,  like  an  ould  crone's;  but  when  I  got 
up  beside  her  I  saw,  be  the  glance  o'  the  sky,  it  was  a 
soart  iv  an  Iscariot  color,  an'  a  shine  out  of  it  like  floss 
silk.  It  ran  over  her  sliowldliers  and  the  two  shapely 
arms  she  was  lanin'  her  head  on,  for  all  the  world  like 
Mary  Magdalen's  in  a  picther ;  and  then  I  persaved  that 
the  gray  cloak  and  the  green  gownd  undhernaith  it  was 
made  of  no  earthly  ma ta rial  I  ever  laid  eyes  on.  Now,  I 
needn't  tell  ye,  sir,  that  I  seen  all  this  in  the  twinkle  of  a 
bed-post — long  as  I  take  to  make  the  narration  of  it.  So 
I  made  a  step  back  from  her,  an'  "  The  Lord  be  betune 
us  an'  harm  ! "  sez  I,  out  loud,  an'  wid  that  I  blessed  me- 
self.  Well,  Misther  Harry,  the  word  wasn't  o'  me  mouth 
afore  she  turned  her  face  on  me.  Aw,  Misther  Harry,  but 
'twas  that  was  the  awfullest  apparatioii  ever  I  seen,  the 
face  of  her  as  she  looked  up  at  me!  God  forgive  me  for 
savin'  it  but  'twas  more  like  the  face  of  the  "  Axy  Homo" 
bey  and  in  Marlboro'  IS  three  t  Chapel  nor  like  any  face  I 


158  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

could  mintion — as  pale  as  a  corpse,  an'  a  most  o'  freckles 
on  it,  like  the  freckles  on  a  turkey's  egg;  an'  the  two  eyes 
sewn  in  wid  red  thread,  from  the  terrible  power  o'  crying 
the'  had  to  do  ;  an'  such  a  pair  iv  eyes  as  the'  wor,  Mis- 
ther  Harry,  as  blue  as  two  forget-me-nots,  an' as  cowld  as 
the  moon  in  a  bog-hole  of  a  frosty  night,  an'  a  dead-an'- 
live  look  in  them  that  sent  a  cowld  shiver  through  the 
marra  o'  me  bones.  Be  the  mortial !  ye  could  ha'  rung  a 
tay  cupful  o'  cowld  paspiration  out  o'  the  hair  o'  me  head 
that  minute,  so  ye  could.  Well,  I  thought  the  life  ud'  lave 
me  in ti rely  when  she  riz  up  from  her  hunkers,  till,  bedad  ! 
she  looked  mostly  as  tall  as  Nelson's  Pillar ;  an'  wid  the 
two  eyes  gazing'  back  at  me,  an'  her  two  arms  stretched 
out  before  her,  an'  a  keine  out  of  her  that  riz  the  hair  o' 
me  scalp  till  it  was  as  stiff  as  the  hog's  bristles  in  a  new 
hearth  broom,  away  she  glides — glides  round  the  angle  o' 
the  brudge,  an'  down  with  her  into  the  sthrame  that  ran 
undhernaith  it.  'Twas  then  I  began  to  suspect  what  she 
was.  "  Wisha,  Thomas !  "  says  I  to  meself,  sez  I ;  an'  I 
made  a  great  struggle  to  get  me  two  legs  into  a  throt,  in 
spite  o'  the  spavin  o'  fright  the  pair  o'  them  wor  in ;  an' 
how  I  brought  meself  home  that  same  night  the  Lord  in 
heaven  only  knows,  for  I  never  could  tell ;  but  I  must  ha' 
tumbled  agin  the  door,  and  shot  in  head  foremost  into  the 
middle  o'  the  flure,  where  I  lay  in  a  dead  swoon  for  mostly 
an  hour ;  and  the  first  I  knew  was  Mrs.  Maguire  stannin' 
over  me  with  a  jorum  o'  punch  she  was  pourin'  down  me 
throath  (throat),  to  bring  back  the  life  into  me,  an'  me 
head  in  a  pool  of  cowld  wather  she  dashed  over  me  in  her 
first  fright.  "  Arrah,  Mister  Connolly,!'  shashee,  "  what 
ails  ye  ? "  shashee,  "  to  put  the  scare  on  a  lone  woman 
like  that  ?  "  shashee.  "  Am  I  in  this  world  or  the  next  ?  " 
sez  I.  "  Musha !  where  else  would  ye  be  on'y  here  in  my 
kitchen  ?  "  shashee.  "  O,  glory  be  to  God  !  "  sez  I,  "  but 
I  thought  I  was  in  Purgathory  at  the  laste,  not  to  mintion 
an  uglier  place,"  sez  I,  "  only  it's  too  cowld  I  find  myself, 
an'  not  too  hot,"  sez  I.  "  Faix,  an'  maybe  ye  wor  more  nor 
half- ways  there,  on'y  for  me,"  shashee  ;  "  but  what's  come 


A  LAMENTATION.  l;,<) 

to  you  at  all,  at  all  ?  Is  it  your  fetch  ye  seen,  Mister  ( 1on- 
uolly  '?  "  "Aw,  naboclish  !  "  *  sez  I.  "Xever  mind  what 
I  seen,"  sez  I.  So  be  degrees  I  began  to  come  to  a  little  ; 
an1  that's  the  way  I  met  the  banshee,  Misther  Harry  ! 

"  'Hut  how  did  you  know  it  really  was  the  banshee  after 
all,  Thomas  V" 

"Begor,  sir,  I  knew  the  apparation  of  her  well  enough  ; 
but  'twas  confirmed  by  a  sarcumstance  that  occurred  the 
same  time.  There  was  a  Misther  O'Xales  was  come  on  a 
visit,  ye  must  know,  to  a  place  in  the  neighborhood — one 
o'  the  ould  O'Xales  iv  the  county  Tyrone,  a  rale  ould  Irish 
family — an'  the  banshee  was  heard  keening  round  the 
house  that  same  night,  be  more  than  one  that  was  in  it; 
an'  sure  enough,  Misther  Harry,  he  was  found  dead  in  his 
bed  the  next  inonihf.  So  if  it  wasn't  the  banshee  I  seen 
that  time,  I'd  like  to  know  what  else  it  could  a'  been." 


A  LAMENTATION. 

For    the  Death  of   /v>    Jlitnrice    Fitzgerald,  Knight,   of 
Kerry,  who  w<i*  killed  In  Flanders,  164:2. 


FROM    THE    IRISH,    BY    CLARENCE    MAXGAX. 

THERE  was  lifted  up  one  voice  of  woe, 

One  lament  of  more  than  mortal  grief, 
Through  the  wide  South  to  and  fro, 

For  a  fallen  Chief. 
In  the  dead  of  night  that  cry  thrilled  through  me, 

I  looked  out  upon  the  midnight  air  ! 
My  own  soul  was  all  as  gloomy, 

As  I  knelt  in  prayer. 

O'er   Loch  Our,  that  night,  once  —  twice  —  yea,  thrice 
Passed  a  wail  of  anguish  for  the  Brave 

*No  bac  leis  —  i.  e.  ,  don't  mind  it. 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

That  Juilf  curled  into  ice 

Its  moon-mirroring  wave. 
Then  uprose  a  many -toned  wild  hymn  in 

Choral  swell  from  Ogra's  dark  ravine, 
And  Mogeely's  Phantom  Women 

Mourned  the  Geraldine ! 

Far  on  Carah  Mona's  emerald  plains 

Shrieks  and  sighs  were  blended  many  hours. 
And  Fermoy  in  fitful  strains 

Answered  from  her  towers. 
Youghal,  Keenalmeaky,  Eemokilly, 

Mourned  in  concert,  and  their  piercing  'keen 
Woke  to  wondering  life  the  stilly 

Glens  of  Inchiqueen. 

From  Loughmoe  to  yellow  Dunanore 

There  was  fear ;  the  traders  of  Tralee 
Gathered  up  their  golden  store, 

And  prepared  to  flee  ; 
For,  in  ship  and  hall  from  night  till  morning, 

Showed  the  first  faint  beamings  of  the  sun, 
All  the  foreigners  heard  the  warning 

Of  the  Dreaded  One ! 

"  This,"  they  spake,  "  portendeth  death  to  us, 

If  we  fly  not  swiftly  from  our  fate  !  " 
Self-conceited  idiots!  thus 

Ravingly  to  prate ! 
Not  for  base-born  higgling  Saxon  trucksters 

Ring  laments  like  those  by  shore  and  sea ! 
Not  for  churls  with  souls  like  hucksters 

Waileth  our  Banshee ! 

For  the  high  Milesian  race  alone 
Ever  flows  the  music  of  her  woe  ! 

For  slain  heir  to  bygone  throne, 
And  for  Chief  laid  low! 


THE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTHYS.     Jt'.J 

Hark!  .  .  .  Again,  methinks,  I  hear  her  weeping 
Yonder !     Is  she  near  me  now,  as  then  ? 

Or  was  hut  the  night-wind  sweeping- 
Down  the  hollow  glen? 


THE  BANSHEE  OF   THE  MAC1  CAIiTHYS. 

T.    CROFTOX    rROKKK. 

CHARLES  MAC  CAIITHV  was,  in  the  year  1749,  the  only 
surviving  son  of  a  very  numerous  family.  His  father  died 
when  he  was  little  more  than  twenty,  leaving  him  the  .Mae 
Carthy  estate,  not  much  encumbered,  considering  that  it 
was  an  Irish  one.  Charles  was  gay,  handsome,  unfettered 
either  by  poverty,  a  father,  or  guardians,  and  therefore 
was  not,  at  the  age  of  one-and-t  wenty,  a  pattern  of  reg 
ularity  and  virtue.  In  plain  terms,  he  was  an  exceed 
ingly  dissipated — I  fear  I  may  say  debauched,  young  man. 
His  companions  were,  as  may  he  supposed,  of  the  highelf 
elasses  of  the  youth  in  his  neighborhood,  and,  in  general, 
of  those  whose  fortunes  were  larger  than  his  own,  whose, 
dispositions  to  pleasure  were,  therefore,  under  stiil  less 
restrictions,  and  in  whose  example  he  found  at  once  an 
incentive  and  an  apology  for  his  irregularities.  Besides, 
Ireland,  a  place  to  this  day  not  very,  remarkable  for  the 
coolness  and  the  steadiness  of  its  youth,  was  then  one  of 
the  cheapest  countries  in  the  world  in  most  of  those 
articles  which  money  supplies  for  the  indulgence  of  the 
passions.  The  odious  exciseman, — with  his  portentous 
book  in  one  hand,  unrelenting  pen  held  in  the  other,  or 
stuck  beneath  his  hat-band,  and  the  ink-buttle  ('black 
emblem  of  the  informer')  dangling  from  his  waistcoat- 
button — went  not  then  from  ale-house  to  ale-house  de 
nouncing  all  those  patriotic  dealers  in  spirits,  who  pre 
ferred  selling  whisky,  which  had  nothing  to  do  with 
English  laws  (but  to  elude  them),  to  retailing  that  poison 
ous  liquor,  which  derived  its  name  from  the  British 
u 


1C2  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  Parliament "  that  compelled  its  circulation  among  a  re 
luctant  people.  Or  if  the  ganger — recording  angel  of  the 
law — wrote  down  the  peccadillo  of  a  publican,  he  dropped 
a  tear  upon  the  word,  and  blotted  it  out  forever !  For, 
welcome  to  the  tables  of  their  hospitable  neighbors,  the 
guardians  of  the  excise,  where  they  existed  at  all,  scrupled 
to  abridge  those  luxuries  which  they  freely  shared ;  and 
thus  the  competition  in  the  market  between  the  smuggler, 
who  incurred  little  hazard,  and  the  personage  ycleped 
fair  trader,  who  enjoyed  little  protection,  made  Ireland 
a  land  flowing,  not  merely  with  milk  and  honey,  but  with 
whisky  and  wine.  In  the  enjoyments  supplied  by  these, 
and  in  the  may  kindred  pleasures  to  which  frail  youth  is 
but  too  prone,  Charles  Mac  Carthy  indulged  in  such  a  de 
gree,  that  just  about  the  time  when  he  had  completed  his 
f our-and-twentieth  year,  after  a  wTeek  of  great  excesses 
he  was  seized  with  a  violent  fever,  which,  from  its  malig 
nity,  and  the  weakness  of  his  frame,  left  scarcely  a  hope 
of  his  recovery.  His  mother,  who  had  at  first  made  many 
efforts  to  check  his  vices,  and  at  last  had  been  obliged  to 
look  on  at  his  rapid  progress  to  ruin  in  silent  despair, 
watched  day  and  night  at  his  pillow.  The  anguish  of 
parental  feeling  was  blended  with  that  still  deeper  misery 
which  those  only  know  who  have  striven  hard  to  rear  in 
virtue  and  piety  a  beloved  and  favorite  child ;  have 
found  him  grow  up  all  that  their  hearts  could  desire,  un 
til  he  reached  manhood  ;  and  then,  when  their  pride  was 
highest,  and  their  hopes  almost  ended  in  the  fulfilment  of 
their  fondest  expectations,  have  seen  this  idol  of  their 
affections  plunge  headlong  into  a  course  of  reckless  pro 
fligacy,  and,  after  a  rapid  career  of  vice,  hang  upon  the 
verge  of  eternity,  without  the  leisure  or  the  power  of 
repentance.  Fervently  she  prayed  that,  if  his  life  could 
not  be  spared,  at  least  the  delirium,  which  continued  with 
increasing  violence  from  the  first  few  hours  of  his  disorder, 
might  vanish  before  death,  and  leave  enough  of  light  and 
of  calm  for  making  his  peace  with  offended  Heaven. 
After  several  days,  however,  nature  seemed  quite  ex- 


THE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTIIYS.  ir,,°> 

ha  listed,  and  he  sunk  into  a  state-  too  like  death  to  be 
mistaken  for  the  repose  of  sleep.  His  face  had  that  pale, 
glossy,  marble  look,  which  is  in  general  so  sure  a  symptom 
that  life  has  left  its  tenement  of  elay.  His  eyes  were 
closed  and  sunk  ;  the  lids  having  that  compressed  and 
stiffened  appearance  which  seem  to  indicate  that  some 
friendly  hand  had  done  its  last  office.  The  lips,  half 
closed  and  perfectly  ashy,  discovered  just  so  much  of  the 
teeth  as  to  give  to  the  features  of  death  their  most 
ghastly,  but  most  impressive  look.  He  lay  upon  his  back, 
with  his  hands  stretched  beside  him,  quite  motionless  ; 
and  his  distracted  mother,  after  repeated  trials,  could  dis 
cover  not  the  least  sympton  of  animation.  The  medical 
man  who  attended,  having  tried  the  usual  modes  for  as 
certaining  the  presence  of  life,  declared  at  last  his  opinion 
that  it  was  flown,  and  prepared  to  depart  from  the  house  of 
mourning.  His  horse  was  seen  to  come  to  the  door.  A 
crowd  of  people  who  were  collected  before  the  windows, 
or  scattered  in  groups  on  the  lawn  in  front,  gathered 
around  when  the  door  opened.  These  were  tenants, 
fosters,  and  poor  relations  of  the  family,  with  others  at 
tracted  by  affection,  or  by  that  interest  which  partakes  of 
curiosity,  but  is  something  more,  and  which  collects  the 
lower  ranks  round  a  house  where  a  human  being  is  in 
his  passage  to  another  world.  They  saw  the  professional 
man  come  out  from  the  hall  door  and  approach  his  horse  ; 
and  while  slowly,  and  with  a  melancholy  air,  he  prepared 
to  mount,  they  clustered  round  him  with  inquiring  and 
wistful  looks.  Xot  a  word  was  spoken,  but  their  mean 
ing  could  not  be  misunderstood ;  and  the  physician, 
when  he  had  got  into  his  saddle,  and  while  the  servant 
was  stilf  holding  the  bridle  as  if  to  delay  him,  and  was 
looking  anxiously  at  his  face  as  if  expecting  that  he 
would  relieve  the  general  suspense,  shook  his  head  and 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  It's  all  over,  James  ;  "  and  moved 
slowly  away.  The  moment  he  had  spoken  the  women 
present,  who  were  very  numerous,  uttered  a  shrill  cry, 
which,  having  been  sustained  for  about  half  a  minute, 


104:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

fell  suddenly  into  a  full,  loud,  continued,  and  discordant 
but  plaintive  wailing,  above  which  occasionally  were 
heard  the  deep  sounds  of  a  man's  voice,  sometimes  in  deep 
sobs,  sometimes  in  more  distinct  exclamations  of  sorrow. 
This  was  Charles's  foster-brother,  who  moved  about  the 
crowd,  now  clapping  his  hands,  now  rubbing  them  to 
gether  in  an  agony  of  grief.  The  poor  fellow  had  been 
Charles's  playmate  and  companion  when  a  boy,  and  after 
wards  his  servant;  had  always  been  distinguished  by  his 
peculiar  regard,  and  loved  his  young  master  as  much,  at 
least,  as  he  did  his  own  life. 

When  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy  became  convinced  that  the 
blow  was  indeed  struck,  and  that  her  beloved  son  was 
sent  to  his  last  account,  even  in  the  blossoms  of  his  sin, 
she  remained  for  some  time  gazing  Avith  fixedness  upon 
his  cold  features ;  then,  as  if  something  had  suddenly 
touched  the  string  of  her  tenderest  affections,  tear  after 
tear  trickled  down  her  cheeks,  pale  with  anxiety  and 
watching.  Still  she  continued  looking  at  her  son,  appar 
ently  unconscious  that  she  was  weeping,  without  once 
lifting  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  until  reminded  of  the 
sad  duties  which  the  custom  of  the  country  imposed  upon 
her,  by  the  crowd  of  females  belonging  to  the  better  class 
of  the  peasantry,  who  now,  crying  audibly,  nearly  filled 
the  apartment.  She  then  withdrew,  to  give  directions 
for  the  ceremony  of  waking,  and  for  supplying  the  numer 
ous  visitors  of  all  ranks  with  the  refreshments  usual  on. 
these  melancholy  occasions.  Though  her  voice  was 
scarcely  heard,  and  though  no  one  saw  her  but  the  serv 
ants  and  one  or  two  old  followers  of  the  family,  who 
assisted  her  in  the  necessary  arrangements,  everything 
was  conducted  with  the  greatest  regularity ;  and  though 
she  made  no  effort  to  check  her  sorrows  they  never  once 
suspended  her  attention,  now  more  than  ever  required  to 
preserve  order  in  her  household,  which,  in  this  season  of 
calamity,  but  for  her  would  have  been  all  confusion. 

The  night  was  pretty  far  advanced ;  the  boisterous 
lamentations  which  had  prevailed  during  part  of  the  day 


THE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTHYS.  HJ5 

in  and  about  the  house  had  given  place  to  a  solemn  and 
mournful  stillness;  and  Mrs.  Mae  Carthy,  whoso  heart, 
notwithstanding  her  long  fatigue  and  watching,  was  yet 
too  sore  for  sleep,  was  kneeling  in  fervent  prayer  in  a 
ehamber  adjoining  that  of  her  son.  Suddenly  her  devo 
tions  were  disturbed  by  an  unusual  noise,  proceeding  from 
the  persons  who  wore  watehing  round  the  body.  First 
there  was  a  low  murmur,  then  all  was  silent,  as  if  the 
movements  of  those  in  the  chamber  were  cheeked  by  a 
sudden  panic,  and  then  a  loud  cry  of  terror  hurst  from  all 
within.  The  door  of  the  chamber  was  thrown  open,  and 
all  who  were  not  overturned  in  the  press  rushed  wildly 
into  tin-  passage  which  led  to  the  stairs,  and  into  which 
]\Irs.  Ma'-  Carthy's  room  opened.  Airs.  .Mac  Carthy  made 
her  way  through  the  crowd  into  her  son's  ehamber,  whore 
she  found  him  sitting  up  in  the  bed,  and  looking  vacantly 
around,  like  one  risen  from  the  grave.  The  glare  thrown 
upon  his  sunk  features  and  thin  lathv  frame  gave  an  un 
earthly  horror  to  his  whole  aspect.  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy  was 
a  woman  of  some  firmness;  but  she  was  a  woman,  and 
not  <[uite  free  from  the  superstitions  of  her  country.  She 
dropped  on  her  knees,  and,  clasping  her  hands,  began  to 
pray  aloud.  The  form  before  her  moved  only  its  lips,  and 
barely  uttered  "  Mother  "  ;  but  though  the  pale  lips  moved, 
as  if  there  was  a  design  to  finish  the  sentence,  the  tongue 
refused  its  office.  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy  sprung  forward,  and 
catching  the  arm  of  her  son,  exclaimed,  "Speak!  in  the 
name  of  God  and  His  saints,  speak  !  are  you  alive?'1 

lie  turned  to  her  slowly,  and  said,  speaking  still  with 
apparent  difficulty,  "Yes,  my  mother,  alive,  and — but  sit 
down  and  collect  yourself;  I  have  that  to  tell  which  will 
astonish  you  still  more  than  what  you  have  seen."  He 
leaned  back  upon  his  pillow,  and  while  his  mother  re 
mained  kneeling  by  the  bedside,  holding  one  of  his  hands 
clasped  in  hers,  and  gazing  on  him  with  the  look  of  one 
who  distrusted  all  her  senses,  he  proceeded  :  u  Do  not  in 
terrupt  me  until  I  have  done.  I  wish  to  speak  while  the 
excitement  of  returning  life  is  upon  me,  as  I  know  I  shall 


H>(>  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

soon  need  much  repose.  Of  the  commencement  of  my 
illness  I  have  only  a  confused  recollection  ;  but  within 
the  last  twelve  hours  I  have  been  before  the  judgment- 
seat  of  God.  Do  not  stare  incredulously  on  me — 'tis  as 
true  as  have  been  my  crimes,  and  as,  I  trust,  shall  be  re-' 
pentance.  I  saw  the  awful  Judge  arrayed  in  all  the 
terrors  which  invest  him  when  mercy  gives  place  to 
justice.  The  dreadful  pomp  of  offended  omnipotence,  I 
saw — I  remember.  It  is  fixed  here ;  printed  on  my  brain 
in  characters  indelible ;  but  it  passeth  human  language. 
"What  I  can  describe  I  will — I  may  speak  it  briefly.  It  is 
enough  to  say,  I  was  weighed  in  the  balance,  and  found 
wanting.  The  irrevocable  sentence  was  upon  the  point 
of  being  pronounced ;  the  eye  of  my  Almighty  Judge, 
which  had  already  glanced  upon  me,  half  spoke  my  doom  ; 
when  I  observed  the  guardian  saint,  to  whom  you  .so  often 
directed  my  prayers  when  I  was  a  child,  looking  at  me 
with  an  expression  of  benevolence  and  compassion.  I 
stretched  forth  my  hands  to  him,  and  besought  his  inter 
cession.  I  implored  that  one  year,  one  month,  might  be 
given  to  be  011  earth  to  do  penance  and  atonement  for  my 
transgressions.  lie  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  my  Judge, 
and  supplicated  for  mercy.  Oh !  never — not  if  I  should 
pass  through  ten  thousand  successive  states  of  being — 
never,  for  eternity,  shall  I  forget  the  horrors  of  that  mo 
ment,  when  my  fate  hung  suspended — when  an  instant 
was  to  decide  whether  torments  unutterable  were  to  be 
my  portion  for  endless  ages  !  But  Justice  suspended  its 
decree,  and  Mercy  spoke  in  accents  of  firmness,  but  mild 
ness,  'Return  to  that  world  in  which  thou  hast  lived  but 
to  outrage  the  laws  of  Him  who  made  that  world  and 
thee.  Three  years  are  given  thee  for  repentance ;  when 
these  are  ended,  thou  shalt  again  stand  here,  to  be  saved 
or  lost  forever.'  I  heard  no  more  ;  I  saw  no  more,  until 
I  awoke  to  life,  the  moment  before  you  entered." 

Charles's  strength  continued  just  long  enough  to  finish 
these  last  words,  and  on  uttering  them  he  closed  his  eyes, 
and  lay  quite  exhausted.  His  mother,  though,  as  was  be- 


HE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTHYS.     1<;7 

fore  said,  somewhat  disposed  to  give  credit  to  supernat 
ural  visitations,  yet  hesitated  whether  or  not  she  should 
believe  that,  although  awakened  from  a  swoon  which  might 
have  been  the  crisis  of  his  disease,  he  was  still  under  the 
influence  of  delirium.  Repose,  however,  was  at  all  events 
necessary,  and  she  took  immediate  measures  that  lie 
should  enjoy  it  undisturbed.  After  some  hours1  sleep,  lie 
awoke  refreshed,  and  thenceforward  gradually  but  steadily 
recovered. 

Still  he  persisted  in  his  account  of  the  vision,  as  lie  ha  I 
at  first  related  it;  and  his  persuasion  of  its  reality  h-.id 
an  obvious  and  derided  influence  on  his  habits  and  con 
duct,  lie  did  not  altogether  abandon  the  society  of  his 
former  associates,  for  his  temper  was  not  soured  by  his 
reformation;  but  he  never  joined  in  their  excesses,  and 
often  endeavored  to  reclaim  them.  I  low  his  pious  exer 
tions  succeeded,  1  have  never  learnt;  but  of  himself  it  is 
recorded  that  he  was  religious  without  ostentation,  and 
temperate  without  austerity;  giving  a  practical  proof 
that  vice  may  be  exchanged  for  virtue,  without  the  loss 
of  respectability,  popularity,  or  happiness. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  long  before  the  three  years  were 
ended  the  story  of  his  vision  was  forgotten,  or,  when 
spoken  of,  was  usually  mentioned  as  an  instance  proving 
the  folly  of  believing  in  such  things.  Charles's  health, 
from  the  temperance  and  regularity  of  his  habits,  became 
more  robust  than  ever.  His  friends,  indeed,  had  often 
occasion  to  rally  him  upon  a  seriousness  and  abstracted 
ness  of  demeanor,  which  grew  upon  him  as  he  approached 
the  completion  of  his  seven-and-twentieth  year,  but  for 
the  most  part  his  manner  exhibited  the  same  animation 
and  cheerfulness  for  which  he  had  always  been  remark 
able.  In  company  he  evaded  every  endeavor  to  draw 
from  him  a  distinct  opinion  on  the  subject  of  the  supposed 
prediction  ;  but  among  his  own  family  it  was  well  known 
that  he  still  firmly  believed  it.  However,  when  the  day 
had  nearly  arrived  on  which  the  prophecy  was,  if  at  all 
to  be  fulfilled,  his  whole  appearance  gave  such  promise  of 


K5S  IRISH   FAIRY  TALKS. 

a  long  (ind  healthy  life,  that  he  was  persuaded  by  his 
friends  to  ask  a  large  party  to  an  entertainment  at  Spring 
House,  to  celebrate  his  birthday.  But  the  occasion  of 
this  party,  and  the  circumstances  which  attended  it,  will 
be  best  learned  from  a  perusal  of  the  following  letters, 
which  have  been  carefully  preserved  by  some  relations 
of  his  family.  The  first  is  from  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy  to  a 
lady,  a  very  near  connection  and  valued  friend  of  hers 
who  lived  in  the  country  of  Cork,  at  about  fifty  miles' 
distance  from  Spring  House. 

"TO  MRS.  HARRY,  CASTLE  BAKRY. 

"  fipritiff  House,    Tuesday  morning, 

October  15?//,  1752. 
"  MY    DKARKST   MARY, 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  going  to  put  your  affection  for  your 
old  friend  and  kinswoman  to  a  severe  trial.  A  two  days' 
journey  at  this  season,  over  bad  roads  and  through  a 
troubled  country,  it  will  indeed  require  friendship  such  as 
yours  to  persuade  a  sober  woman  to  encounter.  But  the 
truth  is,  I  have,  or  fancy  I  have,  more  then  usual  cause 
for  wishing  you  near  me.  You  know  my  son's  story.  I 
can't  tell  you  how  it  is,  but  as  next  Sunday  approaches, 
when  the  prediction  of  his  dream,  or  vision,  will  be  proved 
false  or  true,  I  feel  a  sickening  of  the  heart,  which  I  can 
not  suppress,  but  which  your  presence,  my  dear  Mary, 
will  soften,  as  it  has  done  so  many  of  my  sorrows.  My 
nephew,  James  Kyan,  is  to  be  married  to  Jane  Osborne 
(who,  you  know,  is  my  son's  ward),  and  the  bridal  enter 
tainment  will  take  place  here  on  Sunday  next,  though 
Charles  pleaded  hard  to  have  it  postponed  for  a  day  or 
two  longer.  Would  to  God — but  no  more  of  this  till  we 
meet.  Do  prevail  upon  yourself  to  leave  your  good  man 
for  one  week,  if  his  farming  concerns  will  not  admit  of 
his  accompanying  you  ;  and  come  to  us,  with  the  girls,  as 
soon  before  Sunday  as  vou  can. 

"  Ever  my  dear  Mary's  attached  cousin  and  friend, 

N  MAC  CAKTHY." 


THE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTHYS.  109 

Although  this  letter  reached  Castle  Barry  early  on 
Wednesday,  the  messenger  having  traveled  on  foot  over 
hog  and  moor,  by  paths  impassable  to  horse  or  carriage, 
Mrs.  Barry,  who  at  once  determined  on  going,  had  so  many 
arrangements  to  make  for  the  regulation  of  her  domestic 
affairs  (which,  in  Ireland,  among  the  middle  orders  of  the 
gentry,  fall  soon  into  confusion  when  the  mistress  of  the 
family  is  away),  that  she  and  her  two  young  daughters 
were  unable  to  leave  until  late  on  the  morning  of  Friday. 
The  eldest  daughter  remained  to  keep  her  father  company, 
and  superintend  the  concerns  of  the  household.  As  the 
travelers  were  to  journey  in  an  open  one-horse  vehicle, 
called  a  jaunting-car  (still  used  in  Ireland),  and  as  the 
roads,  bad  at  all  times,  were  rendered  still  worse  by  the 
heavy  rains,  it  was  their  design  to  make  two  easy  stages 
—to  stop  about  midway  the  first  night,  and  reach  Spring 
House  early  on  Saturday  evening.  This  arrangement 
was  now  altered,  as  they  found  that  from  the  lateness  of 
their  departure  they  could  proceed,  at  the  utmost,  no 
farther  than  twenty  miles  on  the  first  day;  and  the), 
therefore,  purposed  sleeping  at  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Bourke, 
a  friend  of  theirs,  who  lived  at  somewhat  less  than  that 
distance  from  Castle  Barry.  They  reached  Mr.  Bourke's 
in  safety  after  a  rather  disagreeable  ride.  What  befell 
them  on  their  journe}"  the  next  day  to  Spring  House,  and 
after  their  arrival  there,  is  fully  recounted  in  a  letter  from 
the  second  Miss  Barry  to  her  eldest  sister. 

Spring  Jloitse,  frnud<tt/  evening^ 

k10tk  October,  17f>'2. 
u  DEAR  ELLKX, 

"  As  my  mother's  letter,  which  encloses  this,  will  an 
nounce  to  you  briefly  the  sad  intelligence  which  I  shall 
here  relate  more  fully,  1  think  it  better  to  go  regularly 
through  the  recital  of  the  extraordinary  events  of  the  last 
two  days. 

"The  Bourkes  kept  us  up  so  late  on  Friday  night  that 
yesterday  was  pretty  far  advanced  before  we  could  begin 


170  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

our  journey,  and  the  clay  closed  when  we  were  nearly 
fifteen  miles  distant  from  this  place.  The  roads  were 
excessively  deep,  from  the  heavy  rains  of  the  last  week, 
and  we  proceeded  so  slowly  that,  at  last,  my  mother  re 
solved  on  passing  the  night  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Bourke's 
brother  (who  lives  about  a  quarter-of-a-mile  off  the  road), 
and  coming  here  to  breakfast  in  the  morning.  The  day 
had  been  windy  and  showery,  and  the  sky  looked  fitful, 
gloomy,  and  uncertain.  The  moon  was  full,  and  at  times 
shone  clear  and  bright ;  at  others  it  was  wholly  concealed 
behind  the  thick,  black,  and  rugged  masses  of  clouds  that 
rolled  rapidly  along,  and  were  every  moment  becoming 
larger,  and  collecting  together  as  if  gathering  strength  for 
a  coming  storm.  The  wind,  which  blew  in  our  faces, 
whistled  bleakly  along  the  low  hedges  of  the  narrow  road, 
on  which  we  proceeded  with  difficult}''  from  the  number 
of  deep  sloughs,  and  which  afforded  not  the  least  shelter, 
no  plantation  being  within  some  miles  of  us.  My  mother, 
therefore,  asked  Leary,  who  drove  the  jaunting-car,  how 
far  we  were  from  Mr.  Bourke's  ?  c  'Tis  about  ten  spades 
from  this  to  the  cross,  and  we  have  then  only  to  turn  to  the 
left  into  the  avenue,  ma'am.'  *  Very  well,  Leary  ;  turn  up 
'  Bourke's  as  soon  as  you  reach  the  cross  roads.' 

My  jjMiher  had  scarcely  spoken  these  words,  when  a 
shriek,  that  made  us  thrill  as  if  our  very  hearts  were 
pierced  by  it,  burst  from  the  hedge  to  the  right  of  our 
wajr.  If  it  resembled  anything  earthly  it  seemed  the  cry 
of  a  female,  struck  by  a  sudden  and  mortal  blow,  and  giv 
ing  out  her  life  in  one  long  deep  pang  of  expiring  agony. 
4  Heaven  defend  us!'  exclaimed  my  mother.  4  (H>  you 
over  the  hedge,  Leary,  and  save  that  woman,  if  she  is  not 
yet  dead,  while  we  run  back  to  the  hut  we  have  just 
passed,  and  alarm  the  village  near  it.'  *  Woman  !'  said 
Leary,  beating  the  horse  violently,  while  his  voi<;e  trem 
bled,  'that's  no  woman ;  the  sooner  we  get  on,  ma'am,  the 
better  ; '  and  he  continued  his  efforts  to  quicken  the  horse's 
pace.  We  saw  nothing.  The  moon  was  hid.  It  was 
quite  dark,  and  we  had  been  for  some  time  expecting  a 


THE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTHYS.     171 

heavy  fall  of  rain.  But  just  as  Leary  had  spoken,  and 
had  succeeded  in  making  the  horse  trot  briskly  forward, 
we  distinctly  heard  a  loud  clapping  of  hands,  followed  by 
a  succession  of  screams,  that  seemed  to  denote  the  last 
excess  of  despair  and  anguish,  and  to  issue  from  a  person 
running  forward  inside  the  hedge,  to  keep  pace  with  our 
progress.  Still  we  saw  nothing  ;  until,  when  we  were 
within  about  ten  yards  of  the  place  where  an  avenue 
branched  off  to  Mr.  Bourke's  to  the  left,  and  the  road 
turned  to  Spring  House  on  the  right,  the  moon  started 
suddenly  from  behind  a  cloud,  and  enabled  us  to  see,  as 
plainly  as  I  now  see  this  paper,  the  figure  of  a  tall,  thin 
woman,  with  uncovered  head,  and  long  hair  that  floated 
round  her  shoulders,  attired  in  something  which  seemed 
either  a  loose  white  cloak  or  a  sheet  thrown  hastily  about 
her.  She  stood  on  the  corner  hedge,  where  the  road  on 
which  we  were  met  that  which  leads  to  Spring  House, 
with  her  face  towards  us,  her  left  hand  pointing  to  this 
place,  and  her  right  arm  waving  vapidly  and  violently  as 
if  to  draw  us  on  in  that  direction.  The  horse  had  stopped, 
apparently  frightened  at  the  sudden  presence  of  the  fig 
ure,  which  stood  in  the  manner  I  have  described,  still 
uttering  the  same  piercing  cries,  for  about  half  a  minute. 
It  then  leaped  upon  the  road,  disappeared  from  our  view 
for  one  instant,  and  the  next  was  seen  standing  upon  a 
high  wall  a  little  way  up  the  avenue  on  which  we  pur 
posed  going,  still  pointing  towards  the  road  to  Spring 
House,  but  in  an  attitude  of  defiance  and  command,  as  if 
prepared  to  oppose  our  passage  up  the  avenue.  The  figure 
was  now  quite  silent,  and  its  garments,  which  had  before 
flown  loosely  in  the  wind,  were  closely  wrapped  around 
it.  '  Go  on,  Leary,  to  Spring  House,  in  (-Jod's  name  ! '  said 
my  mother;  'whatever  world  it  belongs  to,  we  will  pro 
voke  it  no  longer.'  '  Tis  the  Banshee,  ma'am/  said  Leary  ; 
'and  I  would  not,  for  what  my  life  is  worth,  go  any 
where  this  blessed  night  but  to  Spring  House.  But  I'm 
afraid  there's  something  bad  going  forward,  or  she  would 
not  send  us  there.'  So  saving,  he  drove  forward  ;  and  aft 


172  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

we  turned  on  the  road  to  the  right,  the  moon  suddenly 
withdrew  its  light,  and  we  saw  the  apparition  no  more ; 
but  we  heard  plainly  a  prolonged  clapping  of  hands,  grad 
ually  dying  away,  as  if  it  issued  from  a  person  rapidly 
retreating.  We  proceeded  as  quickly  as  the  badness  of 
the  roads  and  the  fatigue  of  the  poor  animal  that  drew  us 
would  allow,  and  arrived  here  about  eleven  o'clock  last 
night.  The  scene  which  awaited  us  you  have  learned 
from  my  mother's  letter.  To  explain  it  fully,  I  must  re 
count  to  you  some  of  the  transactions  which  took  place 
here  during  the  last  week. 

"  You  are  aware  that  Jane  Osborne  was  to  have  been 
married  this  day  to  James  Ryan,  and  that  they  and 
their  friends  have  been  here  for  the  last  week.  On 
Tuesday  last,  the  very  day  on  the  morning  of  which  cousin 
Mac  Carthy  despatched  the  letter  inviting  us  here,  the 
whole  of  the  company  were  walking  about  the  grounds  a 
little  before  dinner.  It  seems  that  an  unfortunate  crea 
ture,  who  had  been  seduced  by  James  Ryan,  was  seen 
prowling  in  the  neighborhood  in  a  moody,  melancholy 
state  for  some  days  previous.  He  had  separated  from  her 
for  several  months,  and,  they  say,  had  provided  for  her 
rather  handsomely  ;  but  she  had  been  seduced  by  the 
promise  of  his  marrying  her ;  and  the  shame  of  her  un 
happy  condition,  uniting  with  disappointment  and  jeal 
ousy,  had  disordered  her  intellects.  During  the  whole 
forenoon  of  this  Tuesday  she  had  been  walking  in  the 
plantations  near  Spring  House,  with  her  cloak  folded 
tight  round  her,  the  hood  nearly  covering  her  face  ;  and 
she  had  avoided  conversing  with  or  even  meeting  any  of 
the  family. 

"  Charles  Mac  Carthy,  at  the  time  I  mentioned,  was 
walking  between  James  Ryan  and  another,  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  rest,  on  a  gravel  path,  skirting  a  shrub 
bery.  The  whole  party  was  thrown  into  the  utmost  con 
sternation  by  the  report  of  a  pistol,  fired  from  a  thickly- 
planted  part  of  the  shrubbery  which  Charles  and  his  com 
panions  had  just  passed.  He  fell  instantly,  and  it  was 


THE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTI1YS.  173 

found  that  he  had  been  wounded  in  the  leg.  One  of  the 
party  was  a  medical  man.  His  assistance  was  immediately 
given,  and,  on  examining,  he  declared  that  the  injury  was 
very  slight,  that  no  bone  was  broken,  it  was  merely  a  flesh 
would,  and  that  it  would  certainly  be  well  in  a  few  days. 
4  AVe  shall  know  more  by  Sunday,"  said  Charles  as  he 
was  carried  to  his  chamber.  His  wound  was  immediately 
dressed,  and  so  slight  was  the  inconvenience  which  it 
gave  that  several  of  his  friends  spent  a  portion  of  the 
evening  in  his  apartment. 

"  On  inquiry,  it  was  found  that  the  unlucky  shot  was 
fired  by  the  poor  girl  I  just  mentioned.  It  was  also  mani 
fest  that  she  had  aimed,  not  at  Charles,  but  at  the  des 
troyer  of  her  innocence  and  happiness,  who  was  walking 
beside  him.  After  a  fruitless  search  for  her  through  the 
grounds,  she  walked  into  the  house  of  her  o\vn  accord, 
laughing  and  dancing,  and  singing  wildly,  and  every 
moment  exclaiming  that  she  had  at  last  killed  Mr.  Hyan. 
When  she  heard  that  it  was  diaries,  and  not  Mr.  Ryan, 
who  was  shot,  she  fell  into  a  violent  tit,  out  of  which,  after 
working  convulsively  for  some  time,  she  sprung  to  the 
door,  escaped  from  the  crowd  that  pursued  her,  and  could 
never  be  taken  until  last  night,  when  she  was  brought 
here,  perfectly  frantic,  a  little  before  our  arrival. 

"  Charles's  wound  was  thought  of  such  little  conse 
quence  that  the  preparations  went  forward,  as  usual,  for  the 
wedding  entertainment  on  Sunday.  But  on  Friday  night 
he  grew  restless  and  feverish,  and  on  Saturday  (yesterday) 
morning  felt  so  ill  that  it  was  deemed  necessary  to  obtain 
additional  medical  advice.  Two  physicans  and  a  surgeon 
met  in  consultation  about  twelve  o'clock  in  the  day,  and 
the  dreadful  intelligence  was  announced,  that  unless  a 
change,  hardly  hoped  for,  took  place  before  night,  death 
must  happen  within  twenty-four  hours  after.  The  wound, 
it  seems,  had  been  too  tightly  bandaged,  and  otherwise 
injudiciously  treated.  The  physicians  were  right  in  their 
anticipations.  No  favorable  symptom  appeared,  and 
long  before  we  reached  Spring  House  every  ray  of  hope 


174  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

had  vanished.  The  scene  we  witnessed  on  onr  arrival 
would  have  wrung  the  heart  of  a  demon.  We  heard 
briefly  at  the  gate  that  Mr.  Charles  was  upon  his  death 
bed.  When  we  reached  the  house,  the  information  wras 
confirmed  by  the  servant  who  opened  the  door.  But  just 
as  we  entered  we  were  horrified  by  the  most  appalling 
screams  issuing  from  the  staircase.  My  mother  thought 
she  heard  the  voice  of  poor  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy,  and  sprung 
forward.  We  followed,  and  on  ascending  a  few  steps  of 
the  stairs,  we  found  a  young  woman,  in  a  state  of  frantic 
passion,  struggling  furiously  with  two  men-servants, 
whose  united  strength  was  hardly  sufficient  to  prevent 
her  rushing  upstairs  over  the  body  of  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy, 
who  wras  lying  in  strong  hysterics  upon  the  steps.  This, 
I  afterwards  discovered,  was  the  unhappy  girl  I  before 
described,  who  was  attempting  to  gain  access  to  Charles's 
room,  to  '  get  his  forgiveness,'  as  she  said,  '  before  he  went 
away  to  accuse  her  for  having  killed  him.'  This  wild 
idea  was  mingled  with  another,  Avhich  seemed  to  dispute 
with  the  former  possession  of  her  mind.  In  one  sentence 
she  called  on  Charles  to  forgive  her,  in  the  next  she  would 
denounce  James  Ryan  as  the  murderer,  both  of  Charles 
and  her.  At  length  she  was  torn  away ;  and  the  last 
words  I  heard  her  scream  were,  '  James  Ryan,  'twas  you 
killed  him,  and  not  I — 'twas  you  killed  him,  and  not  I.' 

"  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy,  on  recovering,  fell  into  Ihe  arms  of 
my  mother,  whose  presence  seemed  a  great  relief  to  her. 
She  wept — the  first  tears,  I  was  told,  that  she  had  shed 
since  the  fatal  accident.  She  conducted  us  to  Charles's 
room,  who,  she  said,  had  desired  to  see  us  the  moment  of 
our  arrival,  as  he  found  his  end  approaching,  and  wished 
to  devote  the  last  hours  of  his  existence  to  uninterrupted 
prayer  and  meditation.  We  found  him  perfectly  calm, 
resigned,  and  even  cheerful.  He  spoke  of  the  awful  event 
which  was  at  hand  with  courage  and  confidence,  and 
treated  it  as  a  doom  for  which  he  had  been  preparing  ever 
since  his  former  remarkable  illness,  and  which  he  never 
once  doubted  was  truly  foretold  to  him.  He  bade  us  fare- 


TTTE  BANSHEE  OF  THE  MAC  CARTIIYS.  175 

well  with  tlh'  air  of  one  who  was  about  to  travel  a  short 
and  easy  journey  ;  and  we  left  him  with  impressions 
which,  notwithstanding  all  their  anguish,  will,  I  trust, 
never  entirely  forsake  us. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Mac  Carthy but  I  am  just  called  away. 

There  seems  a  slight  stir  in  the  family;  perhaps— 

The  above  letter  was  never  finished.  The  enclosure  to 
which  it  more  than  once  alludes  told  the  sequel  briefly, 
and  it  is  all  that  I  have  further  learned  of  the  family  of 
Mac  Carthy.  Before  the  sun  had  gone  down  upon 
Charles's  seven-and -twentieth  birthday,  his  soul  had 
gone  to  render  its  last  account  to  its  Creator. 


GHOSTS. 

GHOSTS,  or  as  they  are  called  in  Irish,  Thevshi  or  Task 
(taidhbhse,  tain),  live  in  a  state  intermediary  between  this 
life  and  the  next.  They  are  held  there  by  some  earthly 
longing  or  affection,  or  some  duty  unfultilled,  or  anger 
against  the  living.  "  I  will  haunt  you,"  is  a  common 
threat ;  and  one  hears  such  phrases  as,  "  She  will  haunt 
him,  if  she  has  any  good  in  her."  If  one  is  sorrowing 
greatly  after  a  dead  friend,  a  neighbor  will  say,  u  Be 
quiet  now,  you  are  keeping  him  from  his  rest ; "  or,  in 
the  Western  Isles,  according  to  Lady  Wilde,  they  will 
tell  you,  "  You  are  waking  the  dog  that  watches  to  devour 
the  souls  of  the  dead."  Those  who  die  suddenly,  more 
commonly  than  others,  are  believed  to  become  haunting 
Ghosts.  They  go  about  moving  the  furniture,  and  in 
every  way  trying  to  attract  attention. 

When  the  soul  has  left  the  body,  it  is  drawn  away, 
sometimes,  by  the  fairies.  I  have  a  story  of  a  peasant 
who  once  saw,  sitting  in  a  fairy  rath,  all  who  had  died  for 
years  in  his  village.  Such  souls  are  considered  lost.  If 
a  soul  eludes  the  fairies,  it  may  be  snapped  up  by  the  evil 
spirits.  The  weak  souls  of  young  children  are  in  especial 
danger.  When  a  very  young  child  dies,  the  western 
peasantry  sprinkle  the  threshold  with  the  blood  of  a 
chicken,  that  the  spirits  may  be  drawn  away  to  the  blood. 
A  Ghost  is  compelled  to  obey  the  commands  of  the  living. 

"  The  stable-boy  up  at  Mrs.  G 's  there,"  said  an  old 

countryman,  "  met  the  master  going  round  the  yards 
after  he  had  been  two  days  dead,  and  told  him  to  be  away 
with  him  to  the  lighthouse,  and  haunt  that ;  and  there 
he  is  far  out  to  sea  still,  sir.  Mrs.  G—  -  was  quite  wild 
about  it,  and  dismissed  the  boy."  A  very  desolate  light- 
176 


A  DREAM.  177 

house  poor  devil  of  a  Ghost !  Lady  Wilde  considers  it  is 
only  the  spirits  who  are  too  bad  for  heaven,  and  too  good 
for  hell,  who  are  thus  plagued.  They  are  compelled  to 
obey  some  one  they  have  wronged. 

The  souls  of  the  dead  sometimes  take  the  shapes  of 
animals.  There  is  a  garden  at  Sligo  where  the  gardener 
sees  a  previous  owner  in  the  shape  of  a  rabbit.  They  will 
sometimes  take  the  forms  of  insects,  especially  of  butter 
flies.  If  you  see  one  fluttering  near  a  corpse,  that  is  the 
soul,  and  is  a  sign  of  its  having  entered  upon  immortal 
happiness.  The  author  of  the  7V/v>r//>W  Snrrri/  of  Trc- 
l<m<l,  1814,  heard  a  woman  say  toa  child  who  was  chasing 
a  butterfly,  kw  How  do  you  know  it  is  not  the  soul  of  your 
grandfather."  On  November  eve  the  dead  are  abroad, 
and  dance  witli  the  fairies. 

As  in  Scotland,  the  fetch  is  commonly  believed  in.  If 
you  see  the  double,  or  fetch,  of  a  friend  in  the  morning, 
no  ill  follows  ;  if  at  night,  he  is  nboiiUto  die. 


A  I  WE  AM. 


I  HEARD  the  dogs  howl  in  the  moonlight  night ; 
I  went  to  the  window  to  see  the  sight ; 
All  the  Dead  that  ever  I  knew 
Going  one  by  one  and  two  by  two. 

On  they  passYl,  and  on  they  passM ; 
Townsfellows  all,  from  first  to  last ; 
Born  in  the  moonlight  of  the  lane, 
Quench Yl  in  the  heavy  shadow  again. 

Schoolmates,  marching  as  when  we  play'd 
At  soldiers  once — but  now  more  staid  ; 
Those  were  the  strangest  sight  to  me 
Who  were  drowii'd,  I  knew,  in  the  awful  sea. 

12 


ITS  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Straight  and  handsome  folk  ;  bent  and  weak,  too; 
Some  that  I  loved,  and  gasp'd  to  speak  to  ; 
Some  but  a  day  in  their  churchyard  bed; 
Some  that  I  had  not  known  were  dead. 

A  long,  long  crowd — where  each  seem'd  lonely, 
Yet  of  them  all  there  was  one,  one  only, 
Raised  a  head  or  look'd  my  way. 
She  linger'd  a  moment, — she  might  not  stay. 

How  long  since  I  saw  that  fair  pale  face ! 
Ah  !  Mother  dear !  might  I  only  place 
My  head  on  thy  breast,  a  moment  to  rest, 
While  thy  hand  on  my  tearful  cheek  were  prest ! 

On,  on,  a  moving  bridge  they  made 
Across  the  moon-stream,  from  shade  to  shade, 
Yonng  and  old,  women  and  men ; 
Many  long- forgot,  but  rememberVl  then. 

And  first  there  came  a  bitter  laughter ; 
A  sound  of  tears  the  moment  after ; 
And  then  a  music  so  lofty  and  gay, 
That  every  morning,  day  by  day, 
I  strive  to  recall  it  if  I  mav. 


GRACE  CONNOR. 

MISS    LETITIA    MACLIXTOCK. 

TIIADY  and  Grace  Connor  lived  on  the  borders  of  a 
large  turf  bog,  in  the  parish  of  Clondevaddock,  where 
they  could  hear  the  Atlantic  surges  thunder  in  upon  the 
shore,  and  see  the  wild  storms  of  winter  sweep  over  the 
Muckish  mountain,  and  his  rugged  neighbors.  Even 
in  summer  the  cabin  by  the  bog  was  dull  and  dreary 
enough. 


GRACE  CONNOR.  179 

Thady  Connor  worked  in  the  fields,  and  Grace  made  a 
livelihood  as  a  pedler,  carrying  a  basket  of  remnants  of 
cloth,  calico,  drugget,  and  frie/e  about  the  country.  The 
people  rarely  visited  any  large  town,  and  found  it  con 
venient  to  buy  from  (.Trace,  who  was  welcomed  in  many  a 
lonely  house,  where  a  table  was  hastily  cleared,  that  she 
might  display  her  wares.  Being  considered  a  very  honest 
woman,  she  was  frequently  entrusted  with  commissions 
to  the  shops  in  Letterkenny  and  Kamelton.  As  she  set 
out  towards  home,  her  basket  was  generally  laden  with 
little  gifts  for  her  children. 

"  Grace,  dear,"  would  one  of  the  kind  housewives  say, 
"  here's  a  farrel  *  of  oaten  cake,  wi'  a  taste  o'  butter  on  it; 
tak'  it  wi'  you  for  the  weans  ;  "  or,  "  Here's  half-a-do/.eii 
of  eggs;  you've  a  big  family  to  support." 

Small  Connors  of  all  ages  crowded  round  the  weary 
mother,  to  rifle. her  basket  of  these1  gifts.  lint  her  thrifty, 
hard  life  came  suddenly  to  an  end.  She  died  after  an 
illness  of  a  few  hours,  and  was  waked  and  buried  as  hand 
somely  as  Thady  could  afford. 

Thady  was  in  bed  the  night  after  the  funeral,  and  the 
tire  still  burned  brightly,  when  he  saw  his  departed  wife, 
cross  the  room  and  bend  over  the  cradle.  Terrified,  he 
muttered  rapid  prayers,  covered  his  face  with  the  blanket ; 
and  on  looking  up  again  the  appearance  was  gone. 

Xext  night  he  lifted  the  infant  out  of  the  cradle,  and 
laid  it  behind  him  in  the  bed,  hoping  thus  to  escape  his 
ghostly  visitor  ;  but  Grace  was  presently  in  the  room,  and 
stretching  over  him  to  wrap  up  her  child.  Shrinking  and 
shuddering,  the  poor  man  exclaimed,  "Grace,  woman, 
what  is  it  brings  you  back  ?  What  is  it  you  want  wi' 
me  ?  " 

"  I  want  naething  fae  you,  Thady,  but  to  put  thon  wean 
back  in  her  cradle,"  replied  the  specter,  in  a  tone  of 
scorn.  "  You're  too  feared  for  me,  but  my  sister  Rose 

*  When  a  large,  round,  flat  griddle  cake  is  divided  into  triangu 
lar  cuts,  each  of  these  cuts  is  called  a  farrel,  farli,  or  parli. 


1  SO  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

willna  be  feared  for  me — tell  her  to  meet  me  to-morrow 
evening,  in  the  old  wallsteads." 

Rose  lived  with  her  mother,  about  a  mile  oft',  but  she 
obeyed  her  sister's  summons  without  the  least  fear,  and 
kept  the  strange  tryste  in  due  time. 

"Rose,  dear,"  she  said,  as  she  appeared  before  her 
sister  in  the  old  wallsteads,  "my  mind's  oneasy  about 
them  twa'  red  shawls  that's  in  the  baskev .  Matty  Hunter 
and  Jane  Taggart  paid  me  for  them,  aii'  I  bought  them 
wi'  their  money,  Friday  was  eight  days.  Gie  them  the 
shawls  the  morrow.  An'  old  Mosey  McCorkell  gied  me 
the  price  o'  a  wiley  coat ;  it's  in  under  the  other  things  in 
the  basket.  An'  now  farewell ;  I  can  get  to  my  rest." 

"  Grace,  Grace,  bide  a  wee  minute,"  cried  the  faithful 
sister,  as  the  dear  voice  grew  fainter,  and  the  dear  face 
began  to  fade — "Grace,  darling!  Thady?  The  chil 
dren  ?  One  word  mair ! "  but  neither  cries  nor  tears  could 
further  detain  the  spirit  hastening  to  its  rest ! 


A  LEGEND  OF  TYRONE. 

ELLEX  O'LEARY. 

CROUCHED  round  a  bare  hearth  in  hard,  frosty  weather, 
Three  lonely  helpless  weans  cling  close  together  ; 
Tangled  those  gold  locks,  once  bonnie  and  bright — 
There's  no  one  to  fondle  the  baby  to-night. 

"  My  mammie  I  want ;  oh !  my  mammie  I  want !  " 
The  big  tears  stream  down  with  the  low  wailing  chant. 
Sweet  Eily's  slight  arms  enfold  the  gold  head: 
"  Poor  weeny  Willie,  sure  mammie  is  dead — 

And  daddie  is  crazy  from  drinking  all  day — 
Come  down,  holy  angels,  and  take  us  away ! " 
Eily  and  Eddie  keep  kissing  and  crying — 
Outside,  the  weird  winds  are  sobbing  and  sighing. 


A  LEGEND  OF  TYRONE.  181 

All  in  a  moment  the  children  are  still, 

Only  a  quick  coo  of  gladness  from  Will. 

The  sheeling  no  longer  seems  empty  or  hare, 

For,  clothed  in  soft  raiment,  the  mother  stands  there. 

They  gather  around  her,  they  cling  to  her  dress ; 
She  rains  down  soft  kisses  for  each  shy  caress. 
Her  light,  loving  touches  smooth  out  tangled  locks, 
And,  pressed  to  her  bosom,  the  baby  she  rocks. 

lie  lies  in  his  cot,  there's  a  tire  on  the  hearth  ; 
To  Eily  and  Eddy  'tis  heaven  on  earth, 
For  mother's  deft  fingers  have  been  everywhere  ; 
She  lulls  them  to  rest  in  the  low  nmji/intn-*  chair. 

They  gaze  open-eyed,  then  the  eyes  gently  close, 
As  petals  fold  into  the  heart  of  a  rose, 
But  ope  soon  again  in  awe,  love,  but  no  fear, 
And  fondly  they  murmur,  "Our  mammic  is  here." 

She  lays  them  dr.vni  softly,  she  wraps  them  ; 
They  lie  in  sweet  slumbers,  she  starts  at  a  so 
The  cock  loudly  crows,  and  the  spirit's  away 
The  drunkard  steals  in  at  the  dawning  of  day. 

Again  and  again,  'tween  the  dark  and  the  dawn, 
Glides  in  the  dead  mother  to  nurse  Willie  Bawn  : 
Or  is  it  an  angel  who  sits  by  the  hearth  ? 
An  angel  in  heaven,  a  mother  on  earth. 

*  Chair  made  of  twisted  straw  ropes. 


182  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


THE  BLACK  LAMB  * 

LADY    WILDE. 

IT  is  a  custom  amongst  the  people,  when  throwing 
away  water  at  night,  to  cry  out  in  a  loud  voice,  "Take 
care  of  the  water  ;  "  or  literally,  from  the  Irish,  "  Away 
with  yourself  from  the  water  " — for  they  say  that  the 
spirits  of  the  dead  last  buried  are  then  wandering  about, 
and  it  would  be  dangerous  if  the  water  fell  on  them. 

One  dark  night  a  woman  suddenly  threw  out  a  pail  of 
boiling  water  without  thinking  of  the  warning  words. 
Instantly  a  cry  was  heard,  as  of  a  person  in  pain,  but  no 
one  was  seen^  However,  the  next  night  a  black  lamb  en 
tered  the  house,  having  the  back  all  fresh  scalded,  and  it 
lay  down  moaning  by  the  hearth  and  died.  Then  they  all 
knew  that  this  was  the  spirit  that  had  been  scalded  by 
the  woman,  and  they  carried  the  dead  lamb  out  rever 
ently,  and  buried  it  deep  in  the  earth.  Yet  every  night 
at  the  same  hour  it  walked  again  into  the  house,  and  lay 
down,  moaned,  and  died ;  and  after  this  had  happened 
many  times,  the  priest  was  sent  for,  and  finally,  by  the 
strength  of  his  exorcism,  the  spirit  of  the  dead  was  laid 
to  rest ;  the  black  lamb  appeared  no  more.  Neither  was 
the  body  of  the  lamb  found  in  the  grave  when  they 
searched  for  it,  though  it  had  been  laid  by  their  own 
hands  deep  in  the  earth,  and  covered  with  clay. 

*  Ancient  Legends  of  Ireland. 


SONG  OF  THE  GHOST.  183 

SONG  OF  THE  GHOST. 

ALFKED    PERC1VAL    GRAVES. 

WHEN  all  were  dreaming 

Hut  Pastheen  Power, 
A  light  came  streaming 

lieneath  her  bower: 
A  heavy  foot 

At  her  door  delayed, 
A  heavy  hand 

On  the  latch  was  laid. 

"Now  who  dare  venture, 

At  this  dark  hour, 
Unhid  to  enter 

My  maiden  bower?  " 
"  Dear  Pastheen,  o})en 

The  door  to  me, 
And  your  true  lover 

You'll  surely  see." 

"My  own  true  lover, 

So  tall  and  brave, 
Lives  exiled  over 

The  angry  wave." 
"  Your  true  love's  body 

Lies  on  the  bier, 
His  faithful  spirit 

Is  with  you  here." 

"His  look  was  cheerful, 

His  voi<-e  was  gay  ; 
Your  speech  is  fearful, 

Your  fare  i:,  gray ; 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

And  sad  and  sunken 

Your  eye  of  blue, 
But  Patrick,  Patrick, 

Alas  !  'tis  you !  " 

Ere  dawn  was  breaking 

She  heard  below 
The  two  cocks  shaking 

Their  wings  to  crow. 
"  Oh,  hush  you,  hush  you, 

Both  red  and  gray, 
Or  you  will  hurry 

My  love  away. 

"  Oh,  hush  your  crowing, 

Both  gray  and  red, 
Or  he'll  be  going 

To  join  the  dead  ; 
Or,  cease  from  calling 

His  ghost  to  the  mould, 
And  I'll  come  crowning 

Your  combs  with  gold." 

AVhen  all  were  dreaming 

But  Pastheen  Power, 
A  light  went  streaming 

From  out  her  bower  ; 
And  on  the  morrow, 

When  they  awoke, 
They  knew  that  sorrow 

Her  heart  had  broke. 


THE  RADIANT  BOY.  1S5 


THE   RADIANT   BOY. 

MIIS.    CROW. 

CAPTAIN  STKWART,  afterwards  Lord  Castlereagh,  when 
he  was  a  young  man,  happened  to  be  quartered  in  Ireland, 
lie  was  fond  of  sport,  and  one  day  the  pursuit  of  game 
carried  him  so  far  that  he  lost  his  way.  The  weather, 
too,  had  become  very  rough,  and  in  this  strait  lie  pre 
sented  himself  at  the  door  of  a  gentleman's  house,  and 
sending  in  his  card,  requested  shelter  for  the  night.  The 
hospitality  of  the  Irish  country  gentry  is  proverbial;  the 
master  of  the  house  received  him  warmly  ;  said  lie  feared 
he  could  not  make  him  so  comfortable  as  he  could  have 
wished,  his  house  being  full  of  visitors  already,  added  to 
which,  some  strangers,  driven  by  the  inclemency  of  the 
night,  had  sought  shelter  before  him,  but  such  accom 
modation  as  lie  could  give  he  was  heartily  welcome  to  ; 
whereupon  he  called  his  butler,  and  committing  the  guest 
to  his  good  offices,  told  him  he  must  put  him  up  some 
where,  and  do  the  best  he  could  for  him.  There  was  no 
lady,  the  gentleman  being  a  widower. 

Captain  Stewart  found  the  house  crammed,  and  a  very 
jolly  party  it  was.  Ills  host  invited  him  to  stay,  and 
promised  him  good  shooting  if  he  would  prolong  his  visit 
a  few  days  :  and,  in  fine,  he  thought  himself  extremely 
fortunate  to  have  fallen  into  such  pleasant  quarters. 

At  length  after  an  agreeable  evening,  they  all  retired 
to  bed,  and  the  1  Hitler  conducted  him  to  a  large  room, 
almost  divested  of  furniture,  but  with  a  blazing  turf  fire 
in  the  grate,  and  a  shake-down  on  the  floor,  composed  of 
cloaks  and  other  heterogeneous  materials. 

Nevertheless,  to  the  tired  limbs  of  Captain  Stewart, 
who  had  had  a  hard  clay's  shooting,  it  looked  very  invit- 


186  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

ing ;  but  before  he  lay  down,  he  thought  it  advisable  to 
take  off  some  of  the  fire,  which  was  blazing  up  the  chim 
ney  in  what  he  thought  an  alarming  manner.  Having 
done  this,  he  stretched  himself  on  his  couch  and  soon  fell 
asleep. 

He  believed  he  had  slept  about  a  couple  of  hours  when 
he  awoke  suddenly,  and  was  startled  by  such  a  vivid  light 
in  the  room  that  he  thought  it  on  fire,  but  on  turning  to 
look  at  the  grate  he  saw  the  fire  was  out,  though  it  was 
from  the  chimney  the  light  proceeded.  He  sat  up  in  bed, 
trying  to  discover  what  it  was,  when  he  perceived  the 
form  of  a  beautiful  naked  boy,  surrounded  by  a  dazzling 
radiance.  The  boy  looked  at  him  earnestly,  and  then  the 
vision  faded,  and  all  was  dark.  Captain  Stewart,  so  far 
from  supposing  what  he  had  seen  to  be  of  a  spiritual 
nature,  had  no  doubt  that  the  host,  or  the  visitors,  had 
been  trying  to  frighten  him.  Accordingly,  he  felt  indig 
nant  at  the  liberty,  and  on  the  following  morning,  when 
he  appeared  at  breakfast,  he  took  care  to  evince  his  dis 
pleasure  by  the  reserve  of  his  demeanor,  and  by  an 
nouncing  his  intention  to  depart  immediately.  The  host 
expostulated,  reminding  him  of  his  promise  to  stay  and 
shoot.  Captain  Stewart  coldly  excused  himself,  and,  at 
length,  the  gentleman  seeing  something  was  wrong,  took 
him  aside,  and  pressed  for  an  explanation  ;  whereupon 
Captain  Stewart,  without  entering  into  particulars,  said 
he  had  been  made  the  victim  of  a  sort  of  practical  joking 
that  he  thought  quite  unwarrantable  with  a  stranger. 

The  gentleman  considered  this  not  impossible  amongst 
a  parcel  of  thoughtless  young  men,  and  appealed  to  them 
to  make  an  apology ;  but  one  and  all,  on  honor,  denied 
the  impeachment.  Suddenly  a  thought  seemed  to  strike 
him ;  he  clapt  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  uttered  an  ex 
clamation,  and  rang  the  bell. 

"  Hamilton,"  said  he  to  the  butler;  "  where  did  Captain 
Stewart  sleep  last  night  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  man  ;  "  you  know  every  place 
was  full — the  gentlemen  were  lying  on  the  floor,  three 


THE  FATE  OF  FRANK  M'KENNA.  1ST 

or  four  in  a  room — so  I  gave  him  the  J$oy*s  Room  ;  but 
I  lit  a  blazing  fire  to  keep  him  from  coming  out." 

"  You  were  very  wrong,"  said  the  host ;  "  you  know  I 
have  positively  forbidden  you  to  put  any  one  there,  and 
have  taken  the  furniture  out  of  the  room  to  ensure  its  not 
being  occupied."  Then,  retiring  with  Captain  Stewart, 
he  informed  him,  very  gravely,  of  the  nature  of  the  phe 
nomena  he  had  seen  ;  and  at  length,  being  pressed  for 
further  information,  he  confessed  that  there  tainted  a 
tradition  in  the  family,  that  whoever  the  "  IJadiant  boy  " 
appeared  to  will  rise  to  the  summit  of  power ;  and  when 
he  has  reached  the  climax,  will  die  a  violent  death,  and  I 
must  say,  he  added,  that  the  records  that  have  been  kept 
of  his  appearance  go  to  confirm  this  persuasion. 


THE  FATE  OF  FRANK  M'KENNA. 

WILLIAM    CARLETOX. 

THERE  lived  a  man  named  M'Kenna  at  the  hip  of  one 
of  the  mountainous  hills  which  divide  the  county  of  Ty 
rone  from  that  of  Monaghan.  This  M'Kenna  had  two 
sons,  one  of  whom  was  in  the  habit  of  tracing  hares  of  a 
Sunday  whenever  there  happened  to  be  a  fall  of  snow. 
His  father,  it  seems,  had  frequently  remonstrated  with 
him  upon  what  he  considered  to  be  a  violation  of  the 
Lord's  day,  as  well  as  for  his  general  neglect  of  mass. 
The  young  man,  however,  though  otherwise  harmless 
and  inoffensive,  was  in  this  matter  quite  insensible  to  pa 
ternal  reproof,  and  continued  to  trace  whenever  the  avo 
cations  of  labor  would  allow  him.  It  so  happened  that 
upon  a  Christmas  morning,  T  think  in  the  year  of  1814, 
there  was  a  deep  fall  of  snow,  and  young  M'Kenna,  in 
stead  of  going  to  mass,  got  down  his  cock-stick — which  is 
a  staff  much  thicker  and  heavier  at  one  end  than  at  the 
other — and  prepared  to  set  out  on  his  favorite  amuse- 


X188  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

ment.  His  father,  seeing  this,  reproved  him  seriously, 
and  insisted  that  he  should  attend  prayers.  His  enthusi 
asm  for  the  sport,  however,  was  stronger  than  his  love  of 
religion,  and  he  refused  to  be  guided  by  his  father's  ad 
vice.  The  old  man  during  the  altercation  got  warm ;  and 
on  finding  that  the  son  obstinately  scorned  his  authority, 
he  knelt  down  and  prayed  that  if  the  boy  persisted  in 
following  his  own  will,  he  might  never  return  from  the 
mountains  unless  as  a  corpse.  The  imprecation,  which 
was  certainly  as  harsh  as  it  was  impious  and  senseless, 
might  have  startled  many  a  mind  from  a  purpose  that 
was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  at  variance  with  religion  and 
the  respect  due  to  a  father.  It  had  no  effect,  however, 
upon  the  son,  who  is  said  to  have  replied,  that  whether 
he  ever  returned  or  not,  he  was  determined  on  going  ;  and 
go  accordingly  he  did.  He  was  not,  however,  alone,  for  it 
appears  that  three  or  four  of  the  neighboring  young  men 
accompanied  him.  Whether  their  sport  was  good  or 
otherwise,  is  not  to  the  purpose,  neither  am  I  able  to  say  ; 
but  the  story  goes  that  towards  the  latter  part  of  the  day 
they  started  a  larger  and  darker  hare  than  any  they  had 
ever  seen,  and  that  she  kept  dodging  on  before  them  bit 
by  bit,  leading  them  to  suppose  that  every  succeeding 
cast  of  the  cock-stick  would  bring  her  down.  It  was 
observed  afterwards  that  she  also  led  them  into  the  re 
cesses  of  the  mountains,  and  that  although  they  tried  to 
turn  her  course  homewards,  they  could  not  succeed  in 
doing  so.  As  evening  advanced,  the  companions  of 
M'Kenna  began  to  feel  the  folly  of  pursuing  her  farther, 
and  to  perceive  the  danger  of  losing  their  way  in  the 
mountains  should  night  or  a  snow-storm  come  upon  them. 
They  therefore  proposed  to  give  over  the  chase  and  re 
turn  home  ;  but  M'Kenna  would  not  hear  of  it.  "  If  you 
wish  to  go  home,  you  may,"  said  he  ;  "  as  for  me,  I'll 
never  leave  the  hills  till  I  have  her  with  me."  They 
begged  and  entreated  of  him  to  desist  and  return,  but  all 
to  no  purpose ;  he  appeared  to  be  what  the  Scotch  call 
— that  is,  to  act  as  if  he  were  moved  by  some  impulse 


THE  FATE  OF  FRANK  M'KENNA. 

that  leads  to  death,  and  from  the  influence  of  which  a 
man  cannot  withdraw  himself.  At  length,  on  finding 
him  invincibly  obstinate,  they  left  him  pursuing  the  hare 
directly  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains,  and  returned  to 
their  respective  homes. 

In  the  meantime  one  of  the  most  terrible  snow-storms 
ever  remembered  in  that  part  of  the  country  came  on,  and 
the  consequence  was,  that  the  self-willed  young  man,  who 
had  equally  trampled  on  the  sanctities  of  religion  and 
parental  authority,  was  given  over  for  lost.  As  soon  as  the 
tempest  became  still,  the  neighbors  assembled  in  a  body 
and  proceeded  to  look  for  him.  The  snow,  however,  had 
fallen  so  heavily  that  not  a  single  mark  of  a  footstep  could 
be  seen.  Nothing  but  one  wide  waste  of  white  undulating 
hills  met  the  eye  wherever  it  turned,  and  of  M'Kenna  no 
trace  whatever  was  visible  or  could  be  found.  His  father, 
now  remembering  the  unnatural  character  of  his  impre 
cation,  was  nearly  distracted;  for  although  the  body  had 
not  yet  been  found,  still  by  every  one  who  witnessed  the 
sudden  rage  of  the  storm  and  who  knew  the  mountains, 
escape  or  survival  was  felt  to  be  impossible1.  Every  day 
for  about  a  week  large  parties  were  out  among  the  hill- 
ranges  seeking  him,  but  to  no  purpose.  At  length  there 
came  a  thaw,  and  his  body  was  found  on  a  snow-wreath, 
lying  in  a  supine  posture  within  a  circle  which  lie  had 
drawn  around  him  with  his  cock-stick.  His  prayer-book 
lay  opened  upon  his  mouth,  and  his  hat  was  pulled  down 
so  as  to  cover  it  and  his  face.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say 
that  the  rumor  of  his  death,  and  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  he  left  home,  created  a  most  extraordinary 
sensation  in  the  country — a  sensation  that  was  the  greater 
in  proportion  to  the  uncertainty  occasioned  by  his  not 
having  been  found  either  alive  or  dead.  Some  affirmed 
that  he  had  crossed  the  mountains,  and  was  seen  in  Mona- 
ghan ;  others,  that  he  had  been  seen  in  Clones,  in  Emyvale, 
in  Five-mile-town ;  but  despite  of  all  these  agreeable  re 
ports,  the  melancholy  truth  WTIS  at  length  made  clear  by 
the  appearance  of  the  body  as  just  stated. 


190  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  the  house  nearest  the  spot 
where  he  lay  was  inhabited  by  a  man  named  Daly,  I  think 
— but  of  the  name  I  am  not  certain — who  was  a  herd  or 
care-taker  to  Dr.  Porter,  then  Bishop  of  Clogher.  The 
situation  of  this  house  was  the  most  lonely  and  desolate- 
looking  that  could  be  imagined.  It  was  at  least  two  miles 
distant  from  any  human  habitation,  being  surrounded  by 
one  wide  and  dreary  waste  of  dark  moor.  By  this  house 
lay  the  route  of  those  who  had  found  the  corpse,  and  I 
believe  the  door  of  it  was  borrowed  for  the  purpose  of  con 
veying  it  home.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  family  witnessed 
the  melancholy  procession  as  it  passed  slowly  through  the 
mountains,  and  when  the  place  and  circumstances  are  all 
considered,  we  may  admit  that  to  ignorant  and  supersti 
tious  people,  whose  minds,  even  upon  ordinary  occasions, 
were  strongly  affected  by  such  matters,  it  was  a  sight  cal 
culated  to  leave  behind  it  a  deep,  if  not  a  terrible  impres 
sion.  Time  soon  proved  that  it  did  so. 

An  incident  is  said  to  have  occurred  at  the  funeral  in 
fine  keeping  with  the  wild  spirit  of  the  whole  melancholy 
event.  When  the  procession  had  advanced  to  a  place  called 
Mullagh tinny,  a  large  dark- colored  hare,  which  was 
instantly  recognized,  by  those  who  had  been  out  with  him 
on  the  hills,  as  the  identical  one  that  led  him  to  his  fate, 
is  said  to  have  crossed  the  roads  about  twenty  yards  or  so 
before  the  coffin.  The  story  goes,  that  a  man  struck  it  on 
the  side  with  a  stone,  and  that  the  blow,  which  would 
have  killed  any  ordinary  hare,  not  only  did  it  no  injury, 
but  occasioned  a  sound  to  proceed  from  the  body  re 
sembling  the  hollow  one  emitted  by  an  empty  barrel 
when  struck. 

In  the  meantime  the  interment  took  place,  and  the  sen 
sation  began,  like  every  other,  to  die  away  in  the  natural 
progress  of  time,  when,  behold,  a  report  ran  abroad  like 
wild-fire  that,  to  use  the  language  of  the  people,  "  Frank 
M'Kenna  was  appearing  !  " 

One  night,  about  a  fortnight  after  his  funeral,  the 
daughter  of  Daly,  the  herd,  a  girl  about  fourteen,  wrhile 


THE  FATE  OF  FRANK  M'KENNA.  191 

lying  in  bed  saw  wluit  appeared  to  be  the  likeness  of 
M'Kenna,  who  had  been  lest.  She  screamed  out,  and 
covering  her  head  with  the  bed-clothes,  told  her  father 
and  mother  that  Frank  Al'Kenna  was  in  the  house.  This 
alarming  intelligence  naturally  produced  great  terror; 
still,  Daly,  who,  notwithstanding  his  belief  in  such  mat 
ters,  possessed  a  good  deal  of  moral  courage,  was  cool 
enough  to  rise  and  examine  the  house,  which  consisted  of 
only  one  apartment.  This  gave  the  daughter  some  cour 
age,  who,  on  rinding  that  her  father  could  not  see  him, 
ventured  to  look  out,  and  she  then-  could  see  nothing  of 
him  herself.  She  very  soon  fell  asleep,  and  her  father 
attributed  what  she  saw  to  fear,  or  some  accidental  com 
bination  of  shadows  proceeding  from  the  furniture,  for  it 
was  a  clear  moonlight  night.  The  light  of  the  following 
day  dispelled  a  great  deal  of  their  apprehensions,  and  com 
paratively  little  was  thought  of  it  until  evening  again  ad 
vanced,  when  the  fears  of  the  daughter  began  to  return. 
They  appeared  to  be  prophetic,  for  she  said  when  night 
came  that  she  knew  he  would  appear  again;  and  accord 
ingly  at  the  same  hour  he  did  so.  This  was  repeated  for 
several  successive  nights,  until  the  girl,  from  the  very 
hardihood  of  terror,  began  to  become  so  far  familiarized 
to  the  specter  as  to  venture  to  address  it. 

"  In  the  name  of  God  !  "  she  asked,  "  what  is  troubling 
you,  or  why  do  you  appear  to  me  instead  of  to  some  of 
your  own  family  or  relations  V  " 

The  ghost's  answer  alone  might  settle  the  question  in 
volved  in  the  authenticity  of  its  appearance,  being,  as  it 
was,  an  account  of  one  of  the  most  ludicrous  missions  that 
ever  a  spirit  was  despatched  upon. 

"  I'm  not  allowed,"  said  he,  "  to  spake  to  any  of  my 
friends,  for  I  parted  wid  them  in  anger ;  but  I'm  come  to 
tell  you  that  they  are  quarrelin'  about  my  breeches — a  new 
pair  that  I  got  made  for  Christmas  day  ;  an'  as  I  was 
comin'  up  to  thrace  in  the  mountains,  I  thought  the  ould 
one  'ud  do  betther,  an'  of  coorse  I  didn't  put  the  new  pair 
an  me.  My  raison  for  appearin',"  he  added,  "  is,  that  you 


192  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

may  tell  my  friends  that  none  of  them  is  to  wear  them 

they  must  be  given  in  charity." 

This  serious  and  solemn  intimation  from  the  ghost  was 
duly  communicated  to  the  family,  and  it  was  found  that 
the  circumstances  were  exactly  as  it  had  represented  them. 
This,  of  course,  was  considered  as  sufficient  proof  of  the 
truth  of  its  mission.  Their  conversations  now  became  not 
only  frequent,  but  quite  friendly  and  familiar.  The  girl 
became  a  favorite  with  the  specter,  and  the  specter,  on  the 
other  hand,  soon  lost  all  his  terrors  in  her  eyes.  He  told 
her  that  whilst  his  friends  were  bearing  home  his  body, 
the  handspikes  or  poles  on  which  they  carried  him  had 
cut  his  back,  and  occasioned  him  great  pain  !  The  cutting 
of  the  back  also  was  known  to  be  true,  and  strengthened, 
of  course,  the  truth  and  authenticity  of  their  dialogues. 
The  whole  neighborhood  was  now  in  a  commotion  with 
this  story  of  the  apparition,  and  persons  incited  by 
curiosity  began  to  visit  the  girl  in  order  to  satisfy  them 
selves  of  the  truth  of  what  they  had  heard.  Everything, 
however,  was  corroborated,  and  the  child  herself,  without 
any  symptoms  of  anxiety  or  terror,  artlessly  related  her 
conversations  with  the  spirit.  Hitherto  their  interviews 
had  been  all  nocturnal,  but  now  that  the  ghost  found  his 
footing  made  good,  he  put  a  hardy  face  on,  and  ventured 
to  appear  by  daylight.  The  girl  also  fell  into  states  of 
syncope,  and  while  the  fits  lasted,  long  conversations  with 
him  upon  the  subject  of  God,  the  blessed  Virgin,  and 
Heaven,  took  place  between  them.  He  was  certainly  an 
excellent  moralist,  and  gave  the  best  advice.  Swearing, 
drunkenness,  theft,  and  every  evil  propensity  of  our  na 
ture,  were  declaimed  against  with  a  degree  of  spectral 
eloquence  quite  surprising.  Common  fame  had  now  a 
topic  dear  to  her  heart,  and  never  was  a  ghost  made 
more  of  by  his  best  friends  than  she  made  of  him.  The 
whole  country  was  in  a  tumult,  and  I  well  remember  the 
crowds  which  flocked  to  the  lonely  little  cabin  in  the 
mountains,  now  the  scene  of  matters  so  interesting  and 
important.  Not  a  single  day  passed  in  which  I  should 


THE  FATE  OF  FRANK  M'KENNA.  p.):; 

think  from  ten  to  twenty,  thirty,  or  fifty  persons,  were 
not  present  at  these  singular  interviews.  Nothing  else 
was  talked  of,  thought  of,  and,  as  I  can  well  testify,  dreamt 
of.  I  would  myself  have  gone  to  Daly's  were  it  not  for  a 
confounded  misgiving  I  had,  that  perhaps  the  ghost  might 
take  such  a  fancy  of  appearing  to  me,  as  he  had  taken  to 
cultivate  an  intimacy  with  the  girl;  and  it  so  happens, 
that  when  I  see  the  face  of  an  individual  nailed  down  in 
the  coffin — chilling  and  gloomy  operation! — I  experience 
no  particular  wish  to  look  upon  it  again. 

The  spot  where  the  body  of  M'Kenna  was  found  is  no\v 
marked  by  a  little  heap  of  stones,  which  lias  been  collected 
since  the  melancholy  event  of  his  death.  Every  person 
who  passes  it  throws  a  stone  upon  the  heap  ;  but  why  this 
old  custom  is  practised,  or  what  it  means,  I  do  not  know, 
unless  it  be  simply  to  mark  the  spot  as  a  visible  means  of 
preserving  the  memory  of  the  occurrence. 

Daly's  house,  the  scene  of  the  supposed  apparition,  is 
now  a  shapeless  ruin,  which  could  scarcely  lie  seen  were 
it  not  for  the  green  spot  that  once  was  a  garden,  and  which 
now  shines  at  a  distance  like  an  emerald,  but  with  no 
agreeable  or  pleasing  associations.  It  is  a  spot  which  no 
solitary  schoolboy  will  ever  visit,  nor  indeed  would  the 
unflinching  believer  in  the  popular  nonsense  of  ghosts 
wish  to  pass  it  without  a  companion.  It  is,  under  any 
circumstances,  a  gloomy  and  barren  place ;  but  when 
looked  upon  in  connection  with  what  we  have  just  re 
cited,  it  is  lonely,  desolate,  and  awful. 


SMALLIIEAD  AND  THE  KING'S  SONS. 

LONG  ago  there  lived  in  Erin  a  woman  who  married  a 
man  of  high  degree  and  had  one  daughter.  Soon  after 
the  birth  of  the  daughter  the  husband  died. 

The  woman  was  not  long  a  widow  when  she  married  a 
second  time,  and  had  two  daughters.  These  two 
daughters  hated  their  half-sister,  thought  she  was  not  so 
wise  as  another,  and  nicknamed  her  Smallhead.  When 
the  elder  of  the  two  sisters  was  fourteen  years  old  their 
father  died.  The  mother  was  in  great  grief  then,  and  be 
gan  to  pine  away.  She  used  to  sit  at  home  in  the  corner 
and  never  left  the  house.  Smallhead  was  kind  to  her 
mother,  and  the  mother  was  fonder  of  her  eldest  daughter 
than  of  the  other  two,  who  were  ashamed  of  her. 

At  last  the  two  sisters  made  up  in  their  minds  to  kill 
their  mother.  One  day,  while  their  half-sister  was  gone, 
they  put  the  mother  in  a  pot,  boiled  her,  and  threw  the 
bones  outside.  When  Smallhead  came  home  there  was 
no  sign  of  the  mother. 

"  Where  is  my  mother  ?  "  asked  she  of  the  other  two. 

"  She    went  out  somewhere.     How   should   we   know 
where  she  is  ?  " 
194 


SMALLHEAD  AND  THE  KING'S  SONS.  195 

"  Oh,  wicked  girls !  you  have  killed  1113' mother,'''  said 
Smallhead. 

Smallhead  wouldn't  leave  the  house  now  at  all,  and  the 
sisters  were  very  angry. 

"  Xo  man  will  marry  either  one  of  us,"  said  they,  "  if 
he  sees  our  fool  of  a  sister." 

Since  they  could  not  drive  Smallhead  from  the  house 
they  made  up  their  minds  to  go  away  themselves.  One 
line  morning  they  left  home  unknown  to  their  half-sister 
and  traveled  on  many  miles.  When  Smallhead  dis 
covered  that  her  sisters  were  gone  she  hurried  after  them 
and  never  stopped  till  slit;  came  up  with  the  two.  They 
had  to  go  home  with  her  that  day,  but  they  scolded  her 
bitterly. 

The  two  settled  then  to  kill  Smallhead,  so  one  day  they 
took  twenty  needles  and  scattered  them  outside  in  a  pile 
of  straw.  "  We  are  going  to  that  hill  beyond,"  said  they, 
"  to  stay  till  evening,  and  if  you  have  not  all  the  needles 
that  are  in  that  straw  outside  gathered  and  on  the  tables 
before  us,  we'll  have  your  life." 

Away  they  wrent  to  the  hill.  Smallhead  sat  down,  and 
was  crying  bitterly  when  a  short  gray  cat  walked  in  and 
spoke  to  her. 

"  Why  do  you  cry  and  lament  so  ?  "  asked  the  cat. 

"  My  sisters  abuse  me  and  beat  me,"  answered  Small- 
head.  "  This  morning  they  said  they  would  kill  me  in 
the  evening  unless  1  had  all 'the  needles  in  the  straw  out 
side  gathered  before  them." 

"  Sit  down  here,"  said  the  cat,  "  and  dry  your  tears." 

The  cat  soon  found  the  twenty  needles  and  brought 
them  to  Smallhead.  "  Stop  there  now,"  said  the  cat,  "  and 
listen  to  what  I  tell  you,  I  am  your  mother  ;  your  sisters 
killed  me  and  destroyed  my  body,  but  don't  harm  them  ; 
do  them  good,  do  the  best  you  can  for  them,  save  them : 
obey  my  words  and  it  will  be  better  for  you  in  the  end." 

The  cat  went  away  for  herself,  and  the  sisters  came 
home  in  the  evening.  The  needles  were  on  the  table  be 
fore  them.  Oh,  but  they  were  vexed  and  angry  when 


196  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

they  saw  the  twenty  needles,  and  they  said  some  one  was 
helping  their  sister ! 

One  night  when  Smallhead  was  in  bed  and  asleep  they 
started  away  again,  resolved  this  time  never  to  return. 
Smallhead  slept  till  morning.  When  she  saw  that  the 
sisters  were  gone  she  followed,  traced  them  from  place  to 
place,  inquired  here  and  there  day  after  day,  till  one  even 
ing  some  person  told  her  that  they  were  in  the  house  of 
an  old  hag,  a  terrible  enchantress,  who  had  one  son  and 
three  daughters :  that  the  house  was  a  bad  place  to  be  in, 
for  the  old  hag  had  more  power  of  witchcraft  than  any 
one  and  was  very  wicked. 

Smallhead  hurried  away  to  save  her  sisters,  and  facing 
the  house  knocked  at  the  door,  and  asked  lodgings  for 
God's  sake. 

"  Oh,  then,"  said  the  hag,  "  it  is  hard  to  refuse  any  one 
lodgings,  and  besides  on  such  a  wild,  stormy  night.  I 
wonder  if  you  are  anything  to  the  young  ladies  who  came 
the  way  this  evening  ?  " 

The  two  sisters  heard  this  and  were  angry  enough  that 
Smallhead  was  in  it,  but  they  said  nothing,  not  wishing 
the  old  hag  to  know  their  relationship.  After  supper  the 
hag  told  the  three  strangers  to  sleep  in  a  room  on  the 
right  side  of  the  house.  When  her  own  daughters  were 
going  to  bed  Smallhead  saw  her  tie  a  ribbon  around  the 
neck  of  each  one  of  them,  and  heard  her  say :  "  Do  you 
sleep  in  the  left-hand  bed."  Smallhead  hurried  and  said 
to  her  sisters :  "  Come  quickly,  or  I'll  tell  the  woman  who 
you  are." 

They  took  the  bed  in  the  left-hand  room  and  were  in  it 
before  the  hag's  daughters  came. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  daughters,  "  the  other  bed  is  as  good." 
So  they  took  the  bed  in  the  right-hand  room.  When 
Smallhead  knew  that  the  hag's  daughters  were  asleep  she 
rose,  took  the  ribbons  off  their  necks,  and  put  them  on 
her  sisters'  necks  and  on  her  own.  She  lay  awake  and 
watched  them.  After  a  while  she  heard  the  hag  say  to 
her  son : 


Smallheaol  carried  cue  sister  over  the  bridge  and  then  the  other.— Page  197. 

Irish  Fairy  Tales, 


SMALLHEAD  AND  THE  KING'S  SONS.  197 

"  Go,  now,  and  kill  the  three  girls ;  they  have  the 
clothes  and  money." 

"  You  have  killed  enough  in  your  life  and  so  let  these 
go,'1  said  the  son. 

But  the  old  woman  would  not  listen.  The  boy  rose 
up,  fearing  his  mother,  and  taking  a  long  knife,  went  to 
the  right-hand  room  and  cut  the  throats  of  the  three  girls 
without  ribbons.  lie  went  to  bed  then  for  himself,  and 
when  Smallhead  found  that  the  old  hag  was  asleep  she 
roused  her  sisters,  told  what  had  happened,  made  them 
dress  cjuickly  and  follow  her.  IJelieve  me,  they  were 
willing  and  glad  to  follow  her  this  time. 

The  three  traveled  briskly  and  came  soon  to  a  bridge, 
called  at  that  time  "The  Bridge  of  lilood."  Whoever  had 
killed  a  person  could  not  cross  the  bridge.  AVhen  the 
three  girls  came  to  the  bridge  the  two  sisters  slopped: 
they  could  not  go  a  step  further.  Smallhead  ran  across 
and*  went  back  again. 

"If  I  did  not  know  that  you  killed  our  mother,"  said 
she,  "I  might  know  it  now,  for  this  is  the  Bridge  of 
Blood." 

She  carried  one  sister  over  the  bridge  on  her  back  ;md 
then  the  other.  Hardly  was  this  done  when  the  hag  was 
at  the  bridge. 

"Bad  hick  to  you,  Smallhead !"  said  she,  "T  did  not 
know  that  it  was  you  that  was  in  it  last  evening.  You 
have  killed  my  three  daughters." 

"  It  wasn't  I  that  killed  them,  but  yourself,"  said  Small- 
head. 

The  old  hag  could  not  cross  the  bridge,  so  she  began  to 
curse,  and  she  put  every  curse  on  Smallhead  that  she 
could  remember.  The  sisters  traveled  on  till  they  came, 
to  a  king's  castle.  They  heard  that  two  servants  were 
needed  in  the  castle. 

"Go  now,"  said  Smallhead  to  the  two  sisters,  "and  ask 
for  service.  Be  faithful  and  do  well.  You  can  never  go 
back  by  the  road  you  came." 

The   two   found    employment    at  the    King's   castle. 


198  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Smallhead  took  lodgings  in  the  house  of  a  blacksmith  near 

by. 

"I  should  be  glad  to  lind  a  place  as  kitchen-maid  in  the 
castle,"  said  Smallhead  to  the  blacksmith's  wife. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  castle  and  find  a  place  for  you  if  I 
can,"  said  the  woman. 

The  blacksmith's  Avife  found  a  place  for  Smallhead  as 
kitchen-maid  in  the  castle,  and  she  went  there  next 
day. 

"  I  must  be  careful,"  thought  Smallhead,  "  and  do  my 
best.  I  am  in  a  strange  place.  My  two  sisters  are  here 
in  the  King's  castle.  Who  knows,  we  may  have  great 
fortune  yet." 

She  dressed  neatly  and  was  cheerful.  Every  one  liked 
her,  liked  her  better  than  her  sisters,  though  they  were 
beautiful.  The  King  had  two  sons,  one  at  home  and  the 
other  abroad.  Smallhead  thought  to  herself  one  day : 
"It  is  time  for  the  son  who  is  here  in  the  castle  to  marry. 
I  will  speak  to  him  the  first  time  I  can."  One  day  she 
saw  him  alone  in  the  garden,  Avent  up  to  him,  and  said  : 

"  Why  are  you  not  getting  married,  it  is  high  time  for 
you  ?  " 

lie  only  laughed  and  thought  she  was  too  bold,  but 
then  thinking  that  she  Avas  a  simple-minded  girl  Avho 
wished  to  be  pleasant,  he  said  : 

"  I  Avill  tell  you  the  reason  :  ]\fy  grandfather  bound  my 
father  by  an  oath  never  to  let  his  oldest  son  marry  until 
he  could  get  the  Sword  of  Light,  and  I  am  afraid  that  I 
shall  be  long  without  marrying." 

"  Do  you  know  where  the  SAvord  of  Light  is,  or  who 
has  it  ?  "  asked  Smallhead. 

"  I  do,"  said  the  King's  son,  "  an  old  hag  Avho  has  great 
pOAver  and  enchantment,  and  she  lives  a  long  distance 
from  this,  beyond  the  Bridge  of  Blood.  I  cannot  go  there 
myself,  I  cannot  cross  the  bridge,  for  I  have  killed  men 
in  battle.  Even  if  I  could  cross  the  bridge  I  Avould  not 
go,  for  many  is  the  King's  son  that  hag  has  destroyed  or 
enchanted," 


SMALLHEAD  AND  THE  KING'S  SONS.  190 

"  Suppose  some  person  were  to  bring  the  Sword  of 
Light,  and  that  person  a  woman,  would  you  marry  her?" 

"  I  would,  indeed,"  said  the  King's  son. 

"  If  yon  promise  to  marry  my  elder  sister  I  will  strive 
to  bring  the  Sword  of  Light." 

u  I  will  promise  most    willingly,"  said   the  King's  son. 

Next  morning  early,  Smallhead  set  out  on  her  journey. 
Calling  at  the  first  shop  she  bought  a  stone  weight  of 
salt,  and  went  on  her  way,  never  stopping  or  resting  till 
she  reached  the  hag's  house  at  nightfall.  She  climbed  to 
the  gable,  looked  down,  and  saw  the  son  making  a  great 
pot  of  stirabout  for  his  mother,  and  she  hurrying  him. 
"  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  hawk  !  "  cried  she. 

Whenever  the  boy  looked  away,  Smallhead  dropped  salt 
down,  dropped  it  when  he  was  not  looking,  dropped  it  till 
she  had  the  whole  stone  of  salt  in  the  stirabout.  The  old 
hag  waited  and  waited  till  at  last  she  cried  out:  "  Bring 
the  stirabout.  I  am  starving!  Bring  the  pot.  I  will  eat 
from  the  pot.  (live  the  milk  here  as  well." 

The  boy  brought  the  stirabout  and  the  milk,  the  old 
woman  began  to  eat,  but  the  first  taste  she  got  she  spat 
out  and  screamed  :  "You  put  salt  in  the  pot  in  place 
of  meal !  " 

k'  I  did  not,  mother." 

-  You  did,  and  it's  a  mean  trick  that  you  played  on  me. 
Throw  this  stirabout  to  the  pig  outside  and  go  for  water 
to  the  well  in  the  field." 

kk  I  cannot  go,"  said  the  boy,  "the  night  is  too  dark  ;  I 
might  fall  into  the  well." 

"  You  must  go  and  bring  the  water;  I  cannot  live  till 
morning  without  eating." 

kw  I  am  as  hungry  as  yourself,"  said  the  boy,  "  but  how 
can  I  go  to  the  well  without  a  light  ?  I  will  not  go  unless 
you  give  me  a  light." 

"  If  I  give  you  the  Sword  of  Light  there  is  no  knowing 
who  may  follow  you  :  maybe  that  devil  of  a  Smallhead  is 
outside." 

But  sooner  than  fast  till  morning  the  old  hag  gave  the 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Sword  of  Light  to  her  son,  warning  him  to  take  good  care 
of  it.  He  took  the  Sword  of  Light  and  went  out.  As  lie 
saw  no  one  when  he  came  to  the  well  he  left  the  sword  on 
the  top  of  the  steps  going  down  to  the  water,  so  as  to  have 
good  light.  lie  had  not  gone  down  many  steps  when 
Smallhead  had  the  sword,  and  away  she  ran  over  hills, 
dales,  and  valleys  towards  the  Bridge  of  Blood. 

The  boy  shouted  and  screamed  with  all  his  might.  Out 
ran  the  hag.  "  Where  is  the  sword  ?  "  cried  she. 

"  Some  one  took  it  from  the  step." 

Off  rushed  the  hag,  following  the  light,  but  she  didn't 
come  near  Smallhead  till  she  was  over  the  bridge. 

"  Give  me  the  Sword  of  Light,  or  bad  luck  to  you," 
cried  the  hag. 

"  Indeed,  then,  I  will  not ;  I  will  keep  it,  and  bad  luck 
to  yourself,"  answered  Smallhead. 

On  the  following  morning  she  Avalked  up  to  the  King's 
son  and  said : 

"  I  have  the  Sword  of  Light ;  now  will  you  marry  my 
sister  ?  " 

" I  will,"  said  ho. 

The  King's  son  married  Sniallhead's  sister  and  got  the 
Sword  of  Light.  Smallhead  stayed  no  longer  in  the 
kitchen — the  sister  didn't  care  to  have  her  in  kitchen 
or  parlor. 

The  King's  second  son  came  home.  lie  was  not  long 
in  the  castle  when  Smallhead  said  to  herself,  "Maybe  he 
will  marry  my  second  sister." 

She  saw  him  one  day  in  the  garden,  went  toward 
him;  he  said  something,  she  answered,  then  asked  :  "Is 
it  not  time  for  you  to  be  getting  married  like  your 
brother?" 

"When  my  grandfather  was  dying,"  said  the  young 
man,  "  lie  bound  my  father  not  to  let  his  second  son 
marry  till  he  had  the  Black  Book.  This  book  used  to 
shine  and  give  brighter  light  than  ever  the  Sword  of 
Light  did,  and  I  suppose  it  does  yet.  The  old  hag  beyond 
the  Bridge  of  Blood  has  the  book,  and  no  one  dares  to  go 


SMALLHEAD  AND  THE  KING'S  SONS.  2<>1 

near  her,  for  many  is  the  King's  son  killed  or  enchanted 
by  that  woman." 

u  Would  you  marry  my  second  sister  if  you  were  to  get 
the  Black  Book?" 

"I  would,  indeed;  I  would  marry  any  woman  if  I  got 
the  Black  Book  with  her.  The  Sword  of  Light  and  the 
Black  Book  were  in  our  family  till  my  grandfather's  time, 
then  they  were  stolen  hy  that  cursed  old  hag." 

"I  will  have1  the  book,"  said  Smallhead,  "or  die  in  the 
trial  to  get  it."1 

Knowing  that  stirabout  was  the  main  food  of  the  hag, 
Smallhead  settled  in  her  mind  to  play  another  trick. 
Taking  a  bag  she  scraped  the  chimney,  gathered  about  a 
stone  of  soot,  and  took  it  with  her.  The  night  was  dark 
and  rainy.  When  she  reached  the  hag's  house,  she 
climbed  up  the  gable  to  the  chimney  and  found  that  the 
son  was  making  stirabout  for  his  mother.  She  dropped 
the  soot  down  by  degrees  till  at  last  the  whole  stone 
of  soot  was  in  the  pot;  then  she  scraped  around  the 
top  of  the  chimney  till  a  lump  of  soot  fell  on  the  boy's 
hand. 

"Oh,  mother,"  said  he,  "  the  night  is  wet  and  soft,  the 
soot  is  falling." 

"('over  the  pot,"  said  the  hag.  k- Be  quick  with  that 
stirabout,  I  am  starving." 

The  boy  took  the  pot  to  his  mother. 

tw  Bad  luck  to  you, "cried  the  hag  the  moment  she  tasted 
the  stirabout,  "  this  is  full  of  soot;  throw  it  out  to  the 
pig." 

"  If  I  throw  it  out  there  is  no  water  inside  to  make 
more,  and  I'll  not  go  in  the  dark  and  rain  to  the  well." 

"  You  must  go  !  "  screamed  she. 

'•  I'll  not  stir  a  foot  out  of  this  unless  I  get  a  light,''  said 
the  boy. 

"  Is  it  the  book  you  are  thinking  of,  you  fool,  to  take  it 
and  lose,  it  as  you  did  the  sword  ?  Smallhead  is  watching 
you." 

"How  could  Smalihead,  the  creature,  be  outside  all  the; 


202  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

time  ?  If  you  have  no  use  for  the  water  you  can  do  with 
out  it." 

Sooner  than  stop  fasting  till  morning,  the  hag  gave  her 
son  the  book,  saying :  "  Do  not  put  this  down  or  let  it 
from  your  hand  till  you  come  in,  or  I'll  have  your  life." 

The  boy  took  the  book  and  went  to  the  well.  Small- 
head  followed  him  carefully.  He  took  the  book  down 
into  the  well  with  him,  and  when  he  was  stooping  to  dip 
water  she  snatched  the  book  and  pushed  him  into  the 
well,  where  he  came  very  near  drowning. 

Smallhead  was  far  away  when  the  boy  recovered,  and 
began  to  scream  and  shout  to  his  mother.  She  came  in  a 
hurry,  and  finding  that  the  book  was  gone,  fell  into  such 
a  rage  that  she  thrust  a  knife  into  her  son's  heart  and 
ran  after  Smallhead,  who  had  crossed  the  bridge  before 
the  hag  could  come  up  with  her. 

When  the  old  woman  saw  Smallhead  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bridge  facing  her  and  dancing  with  delight,  she 
screamed : 

"  You  took  the  Sword  of  Light  and  the  Black  Book, 
and  your  two  sisters  are  married.  Oh,  then,  bad  luck  to 
you.  I  will  put  my  curse  on  you  wherever  you  go.  You 
have  all  my  children  killed,  and  I  a  poor,  feeble,  old 
woman." 

"  Bad  luck  to  yourself,"  said  Smallhead.  "  I  am  not 
afraid  of  a  curse  from  the  like  of  you.  If  you  had  lived 
an  honest  life  you  wouldn't  be  as  you  are  to-day." 

"  Now,  Smallhead,"  said  the  old  hag,  "  you  have  me 
robbed  of  everything,  and  my  children  destroyed.  Your 
two  sisters  are  well  married.  Your  fortune  began  with 
my  ruin.  Come,  now,  and  take  care  of  me  in  my  old  age. 
I'll  take  my  curse  from  you,  and  you  will  have  good  luck. 
I  bind  myself  never  to  harm  a  hair  of  your  head." 

Smallhead  thought  awhile,  promised  to  do  this,  and 
said :  "  If  you  harm  me,  or  try  to  harm  me,  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  yourself." 

The  old  hag  was  satisfied  and  went  home.  Smallhead 
went  to  the  castle  and  was  received  with  great  joy,  Next 


SMALLHEAD  AND  THE  KINGS  SONS.  203 

morning  she  found  the  King's  son  in  the  garden,  and 
said  :  "  If  you  marry  my  sister  to-morrow,  you  Avill  have 
the  Black  Book." 

"  I  will  marry  her  gladly,"  said  the  King's  son. 

Next  day  the  marriage  was  celebrated  and  the  King's 
son  got  the  hook.  Smallhead  remained  in  the  castle  about 
a  week,  then  she  left  good  health  with  her  sisters  and 
went  to  the  hag's  house.  The  old  woman  was  glad  to  see 
her  and  showed  the  girl  her  work.  All  Smallhead  had 
to  do  was  to  wait  on  the  hag  and  feed  a  large  pig  that 
she  had. 

"  I  am  fatting  that  pig,"  said  the  hag  ;  u  he  is  seven 
years  old  now,  and  the  longer  you  keep  a  pig  the  harder 
his  meat  is  :  we'll  keep  this  pig  a  while  longer,  and  then 
we'll  kill  and  eat  him." 

Smallhead  did  her  work  ;  the  old  hag  taught  her  some 
things,  and  Smallhead  learned  herself  far  more  than  the 
hag  dreamt  of.  The  girl  fed  the  pig  three  times  a  day, 
never  thinking  that  he  could  be  anything  but  a  pig.  The 
hag  had  sent  word  to  a  sister  that  she  had  in  the  Eastern 
World,  bidding  her  come  and  they  would  kill  the  pig  and 
have  a  great  feast.  The  sister  came,  and  one  day  when 
the  hag  was  going  to  walk  with  her  sister  she  said  to 
Smallhead : 

"  Give  the  pig  plenty  of  meal  to-day ;  this  is  the  last 
food  he'll  have  ;  give  him  his  fill." 

The  pig  had  his  own  mind  and  knew  what  was  coming. 
lie  put  his  nose  under  the  pot  and  threw  it  on  Small- 
head's  toes,  and  she  barefoot.  With  that  she  ran  into  the 
house  for  a  stick,  and  seeing  a  rod  on  the  edge  of  the  loft, 
snatched  it  and  hit  the  pig. 

That  moment  the  pig  was  a  splendid  young  man. 

Smallhead  was  amazed. 

"  Xever  fear,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  am  the  son  of  a 
King  that  the  old  hag  hated,  the  King  of  Munster.  She 
stole  me  from  my  father  seven  years  ago  and  enchanted 
me— made  a  pig  of  me." 

Smallhead  told  the  Kings  son,  then,  how  the  hag  had 


0,4  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

treated  her.  "  T  must  make  a  pig  of  you  again,"  said  she 
"  for  the  hag  is  coining.  ]>e  patient  and  I'll  save  you,  if 
you  promise  to  marry  me." 

"  I  promise  you,"  said  the  King's  son. 

With  that  she  struck  him,  and  he  was  a  pig  again. 
She  put  the  switch  in  its  place  and  was  at  her  work  when 
the  two  sisters  came.  The  pig  ate  his  meal  now  with  a 
good  heart,  for  he  felt  sure  of  rescue. 

"  Who  is  that  girl  you  have  in  the  house,  and  where 
did  you  find  her  ?  "  asked  the  sister. 

"All  my  children  died  of  the  plague,  and  I  took  this 
girl  to  help  me.  She  is  a  very  good  servant." 

At  night  the  hag  slept  in  one  room,  her  sister  in 
another,  and  Smallhead  in  a  third.  When  the  two  sisters 
were  sleeping  soundly  Smallhead  rose,  stole  the  hag's 
magic  book,  and  then  took  the  rod.  She  went  next  to 
where  the  pig  was,  and  with  one  blow  of  the  rod  made  a 
man  of  him 

With  the  help  of  the  magic  book  Smallhead  made  two 
doves  of  herself  and  the  King's  son,  and  they  took  flight 
through  the  air  and  Hew  on  without  stopping.  Next 
morning  the  hag  called  Smallhead,  but  she  did  not  come. 
She  hurried  out  to  see  the  pig.  The  pig  was  gone.  She 
ran  to  her  book.  Not  a  sign  of  it. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  she,  "  that  villain  of  a  Smallhead  has 
robbed  me.  She  has  stolen  my  book,  made  a  man  of  the 
pig,  and  taken  him  away  with  her." 

What  could  she  do  but  tell  her  whole  story  to  the  sister. 
"  Go  you,"  said  she,  "  and  follow  them.  You  have  more 
enchantment  than  Smallhead  has." 

"  How  am  I  to  know  them  ?  "  asked  the  sister. 

"  Bring  the  first  two  strange  things  that  you  find  ;  they 
will  turn  themselves  into  something  wonderful." 

The  sister  then  made  a  hawk  of  herself  and  flew  away 
as  swiftly  as  any  March  wind. 

«  Look  behind,"  said  Smallhead  to  the  King's  son  some 
hours  later  ;  "  see  what  is  coming." 

"I  see  nothing,"  said  he,  "but  a  hawk  coming  swiftly." 


SMALUIKAI)  AND  TITE  KIND'S  SONS.  Q()5 

"That  is  the  line's  sister.  She  lias  three  times  more 
enchantment  than  the  hag  herself.  But  tiy  down  on  the 
diieli  and  be  picking  yourself  as  doves  do  in  rainy  weather, 
and  maybe  she'll  puss  without  seeing  us." 

The  hawk  saw  the  doves,  but  thinking  them  nothing 
wonderful,  new  on  till  evening,  and  then  went  buck  toher 
sister. 

»4  Did  you  see  anything  wonderful?" 

l- I  did  not;  I  saw  only  two  doves,  and  they  picking 
themselves." 

u  You  fool,  those  doves  were  Smallhead  and  the  King's 
son.  Otf  with  you  in  the  morning  and  don't  let  me  see 
you  again  without  the  two  with  you." 

Away  went  the  hawk  a  second  time,  and  swiftly  as 
Smallhead  and  the  King's  son  Hew,  the  hawk  was  gaining 
on  them.  Seeing  this  Smallhead  and  the  King's  soil 
dropped  down  into  a  large4  village,  and,  it  being  market- 
day,  they  made  two  heather  brooms  of  themselves.  The 
two  brooms  began  to  sweep  the  road  without  any  one 
holding  them,  and  swept  toward  each  other.  This  was  a 
great  wonder.  Crowds  gathered  at  once  around  the  two 
brooms. 

The  old  hag  flying  over  in  the  form  of  a  hawk  saw  this 
and  thinking  that  it  must  be  Smallhead  and  the  King's  son 
were  in  it,  came  down,  turned  into  a  woman,  and  said  to 
herself  : 

"  ril  have  those  two  brooms." 

She  pushed  forward  so  quickly  through  the  crowd  that 
she  came  near  knocking  down  a  man  standing  before  her. 
The  man  was  vexed. 

"  You  cursed  old  hag !  "  cried  he,  "  do  you  want  to 
knock  us  down  ?"  With  that  he  gave  her  a  blow  and 
drove  her  against  another  man,  that  man  gave  her  a  push 
that  sent  her  spinning  against  a  third  man,  and  so  on  till 
between  them  all  they  came  near  putting  the  life  out  of 
her,  and  pushed  her  away  from  the  brooms.  A  woman 
in  the  crowd  called  out  then  : 

"  It  would  be  nothing  but  right  to  knock  the  head  off 


206  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

that  old  hag,  and  she  trying  to  push  us  away  from  the 
mercy  of  God,  for  it  was  God  who  sent  the  brooms  to 
sweep  the  road  for  us." 

"  True  for  you,"  said  another  woman.  With  that  the 
people  were  as  angry  as  angry  could  be,  and  were  ready 
to  kill  the  hag.  They  were  going  to  take  the  head  off 
the  hag  when  she  made  a  hawk  of  herself  and  flew  away, 
vowing  never  to  do  another  stroke  of  work  for  her  sister. 
She  might  do  her  own  work  or  let  it  alone. 

When  the  hawk  disappeared  the  two  heather  brooms 
rose  and  turned  into  doves.  The  people  felt  sure  when 
they  saw  the  doves  that  the  brooms  were  a  blessing  from 
heaven,  and  it  was  the  old  hag  that  drove  them  away. 

On  the  following  day  Smallhead  and  the  King's  son 
saw  his  father's  castle,  and  the  two  came  down  not  too 
far  from  it  in  their  own  forms.  Smallhead  was  a  very 
beautiful  woman  now,  and  why  not  ?  She  had  the  magic 
and  didn't  spare  it.  She  made  herself  as  beautiful  as 
ever  she  could  :  the  like  of  her  was  not  to  be  seen  in  that 
kingdom  or  the  next  one. 

The  King's  son  was  in  love  with  her  that  minute,  and 
did  not  wish  to  part  with  her,  but  she  would  not  go  with 
him. 

"  When  you  are  at  your  father's  castle,"  said  Smallhead, 
"all  will  be  overjoyed  to  see  you,  and  the  king  will  give 
a  great  feast  in  your  honor.  If  you  kiss  any  one  or  let 
any  living  thing  kiss  you,  you'll  forget  me  for  ever." 

"  I  will  not  let  even  my  own  mother  kiss  me,"  said  he. 

The  King's  son  went  to  the  castle.  All  were  overjoyed ; 
they  had  thought  him  dead,  had  not  seen  him  for  seven 
years.  He  would  let  no  one  come  near  to  kiss  him.  "  I 
am  bound  by  oath  to  kiss  no  one,"  said  he  to  his  mother. 
At  that  moment  an  old  greyhound  came  in,  and  with 
one  spring  was  on  his  shoulder  licking  his  face  :  all  that 
the  King's  son  had  gone  through  in  seven  years  was  for 
gotten  in  one  moment. 

Smallhead  went  toAvard  a  forge  near  the  castle.  The 
smith  had  a  wife  far  younger  than  himself,  and  a  step- 


SMALLHEAD  AND  THE  KING'S  SONS.  207 

daughter.  They  were  no  beauties.  In  the  rear  of  the 
forge  was  a  well  and  a  tree  growing  over  it.  "  I  will  go 
ii])  in  that  tree,"  thought  Smallhead,  "and  spend  the 
night  in  it.""  She  went  up  and  sat  just  over  the  well. 
She  was  not  long  ju  the  tree  when  the  moon  came  out 
high  ahove  the  hill  tops  and  shone  on  the  well.  The 
blacksmith's  stepdaughter,  coming  for  water,  looked  down 
in  the  well,  saw  the  face  of  the  woman  above  in  the  tree, 
thought  it  her  own  face,  and  cried: 

•••Oil,  then,  to  have  me  bringing  water  to  a  smith,  and 
I  such  a  beauty.  Til  never  bring  another  drop  to  him." 
With  that  she  cast  the  pail  in  the  ditch  and  ran  off  to 
find  a  king's  son  to  marry. 

When  she  was  not  coming  with  the  water,  and  the 
blacksmith  waiting  to  wash  after  his  day's  work  in  the 
forge,  lie  sent  the  mother.  The  mother  had  nothing  but 
a  pot  to  get  the  water  in,  so  oil'  she  went  with  that,  and 
coming  to  the  well  saw  the  beautiful  face  in  the  water. 

"Oh,  you  black,  swarthy  villain  of  a  smith,"  cried  she, 
'•had  luck  to  the  hour  that  I  met  you,  and  I  such  a  beauty. 
I'll  never  draw  another  drop  of  water  for  the  life  of 
yon  ! " 

She  threw  the  pot  down,  broke  it,  and  hurried  away  to 
find  some  king's  son. 

When  neither  mother  nor  daughter  came  back  with 
water  the  smith  himself  went  to  see  what  was  keeping 
them.  lie  saw  the  pail  in  the  ditch,  and,  catching  it, 
went  to  the  well;  looking  down,  he  saw  the  beautiful 
face  of  a  woman  in  the  water.  Being  a  man,  he  knew 
that  it  was  not  his  own  face  that  was  in  it,  so  he  looked 
iq),  and  there  in  the  tree  saw  a  woman.  lie  spoke  to  her 
and  said  : 

'- 1  know  now  why  my  wife  and  her  daughter  did  not 
bring  water.  They  saw  your  face  in  the  well,  and,  think 
ing  themselves  too  good  for  me,  ran  away.  You  must 
come  now  and  keep  the  house  till  I  find  them." 

"  I  will  help  you,"  said  Smallhead.  She  came  down, 
went  to  the  smith's  house,  and  showed  the  road  that  the 


20$  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

women  took.  The  smith  hurried  after  them,  and  found 
the  two  in  the  village  ten  miles  away,  lie  explained 
their  own  folly  to  them,  and  they  came  home. 

The  mother  and  daughter  washed  fine  linen  for  the 
castle.  Smallhead  saw  them  ironing  one  day,  and  said  : 

"Sit  down:  T  will  iron  for  you." 

She  caught  the  iron,  and  in  an  hour  had  the  work  of 
the  day  clone. 

The  women  were  delighted.  In  the  evening  the 
daughter  took  the  linen  to  the  housekeeper  at  the  castle. 

"  Who  ironed  this  linen  ?  "  asked  the  housekeeper. 

"  My  mother  and  I." 

"  Indeed,  then,  you  did  not.  You  can't  do  the  like  of 
that  work,  and  tell  me  who  did  it." 

The  girl  was  in  dread  now  and  answered  : 

"It  is  a  woman  who  is  stopping  with  us  who  did  the 
ironing.*' 

The  housekeeper  weiit  to  the  Queen  and  showed  her 
the  linen. 

Send  that  woman  to  the  castle,"  said  the  Queen. 

Smallhead  went:  the  Queen  welcomed  her,  wondered 
at  her  beauty ;  put  her  over  all  the  maids  in  the  castle. 
Smallhead  could  do  anything ;  everybody  was  fond  of 
her.  The  King's  son  never  knew  that  he  had  seen  her 
before,  and  she  lived  in  the  castle  a  year  ;  what  the  Queen 
told  her  she  did. 

The  King  had  made  a  match  for  his  son  with  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  Ulster.  There  was  a  great  feast 
in  the  castle  in  honor  of  the  young  couple,  the  marriage 
was  to  be  a  week  later.  The  bride's  father  brought  many 
of  his  people  who  were  versed  in  all  kinds  of  tricks  and 
enchantment. 

The  King  knew  that  Smallhead  could  do  many  things, 
for  neither  the  Queen  nor  himself  had  asked  her  to  do  a 
thing  that  she  did  not  do  in  a  twinkle. 

"  Now,"  said  the  King  to  the  Queen,  "  I  think  she  can 
do  something  that  his  people  cannot  do."  He  summoned 
Smallhead  and  asked : 


SMALLHEAD  AND  THE  KINfl'S  SONS.  209 

"  Can  you  amuse  the  strangers  ?  " 

a  1  can  if  you  wish  me  to  do  so." 

When  the  time  came  and  the  lister  men  had  shown 
their  best  tricks,  Smallhead  came  forward  and  raised  the 
•window,  which  was  forty  feet  from  the  ground.  She  had 
a  small  ball  of  thread  in  her  hand;  she  tied  one  end  of 
the  thread  to  the  window,  threw  the  ball  out  and  over  a 
wall  near  the  castle  ;  then  she  passed  out  the  window, 
walked  on  the  thread  and  kept  time  to  music  from  players 
that  no  man  could  see.  She  came  in  ;  all  cheered  her  and 
were  greatly  delighted. 

u  I  can  do  that,"  said  the  King  of  lister's  daughter,  and 
sprang  out  on  the  string;  but  if  she  did  she  fell  ami  broke 
her  neck  on  the  stones  below.  There  were  cries,  there 
was  lamentation,  and,  in  place  of  a  marriage,  a  funeral. 

The  King's  son  was  angry  and  grieved  and  wanted  to 
drive  Smallhead  from  the  castle  in  some  way. 

"She  is  not  to  blame,"  said  the  King  of  Minister,  who 
did  nothing  but  praise  her. 

Another  year  passed  :  the  King  got  the  daughter  of  the 
King  of  Connacht  for  his  son.  There  was  a  great  feast 
before  the  wedding  day,  and  as  the  Connacht  people  are 
full  of  enchantment  and  witchcraft,  the  King  of  Minister 
called  Smallhead  and  said  : 

"Now  show  the  best  trick  of  any." 

"  I  will,"  said  Smallhead. 

When  the  feast  Avas  over  and  the  Connacht  men  had 
shown  their  tricks  the  King  of  Minister  called  Small- 
head. 

She  stood  before  the  company,  threw  two  grains  of 
wheat  on  the  floor,  and  spoke  some  magic  words.  There 
was  a  hen  and  a  cock  there  before  her  of  beautiful  plu 
mage  ;  she  threw  a  grain  of  wheat  between  them;  the 
hen  sprang  to  eat  the  wheat,  the  cock  gave  her  a  blow  of 
his  bill,  the  hen  drew  back,  looked  at  him,  and  said  : 

"  Bad  luck  to  you,  you  wouldn't  do  the  like  of  that 
when  I  was  serving  the  old  hag  and  you  her  pig,  and  I 
made  a  man  of  you  and  gave  you  back  your  own  form. 
14 


210  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

The  King's  son  looked  at  her  and  thought,  "  There 
must  be  something  in  this." 

Smallhead  threw  a  second  grain.  The  cock  pecked  the 
hen  again.  "  Oh,"  said  the  hen,  "  you  would  not  do  that 
the  day  the  hag's  sister  was  hunting  us,  and  we  two 
doves." 

The  King's  son  was  still  more  astonished. 

She  threw  a  third  grain.  The  cock  struck  the  hen, 
and  she  said,  "  You  would  not  do  that  to  me  the  day  I 
made  two  heather  brooms  out  of  you  and  myself."  She 
threw  a  fourth  grain.  The  cock  pecked  the  hen  a  fourth 
time.  "  You  would  not  do  that  the  day  you  promised  not 
to  let  any  living  thing  kiss  you  or  kiss  any  one  yourself 
but  me — you  let  the  hound  kiss  you  and  you  forgot  me." 

The  King's  son  made  one  bound  forward,  embraced  and 
kissed  Smallhead,  and  told  the  King  his  whole  story  from 
beginning  to  end. 

"  This  is  my  wife,"  said  he ;  "  I'll  marry  no  other 
woman." 

"  Whose  wife  will  my  daughter  be  ?  "  asked  the  King 
of  Connacht. 

"  Oh,  she  will  be  the  wife  of  the  man  who  will  marry 
her,"  said  the  King  of  Minister,  "  my  son  gave  his  word 
to  this  woman  before  he  saw  your  daughter,  and  he  must 
keep  it." 

So  Smallhead  married  the  King  of  Munster's  son. 


This  is  my  wife,"  said  the  king's  son.     ''  I'll  marry  no  other." — Page  810. 

Irish  Fairy  TaliK 


WITCHES,*  FAIRY  DOCTORS. 

WnviiKs  and  fairy  dot-tors  receive  their  power  from 
opposite  dynasties;  the  witch  from  evil  spirits  and  her 
own  malignant  will ;  the  fairy  doctor  from  the  fairies,  and 
a  something'— a  temperament — that  is  born  with  him  or 

*  The  hist  trial  for  witchcraft  in  Ireland— there  were  never  very 
many— is  thus  given  in  MaeSkimin's  History  of  Carrickfergus  :— 
41  1711.  March  :Ust,  Janet  Mean,  of  Braid-island  ;  Janet  Latiiner, 
Irish-quarter,  Carrickfergus  :  Janet  Millar,  Scotch-quarter.  Car-  ,, 
riekfergus  ;  Margaret  Mitchel,  Kilroot  ;  Catharine  M'Cahnond, 
Janet  Liston.  alitt*  Seller.  Elizabeth  Seller,  and  Janet  Carbon, 
the  four  last  from  Island  Magee,  were  tried  here,  in  the  County 
of  Antrim  Court,  for  witchcraft." 

Their  alleged  crime  was  tormenting  a  young  woman,  called 
Mary  Duubar,  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  at  the  house  of  James 
Hattridge,  Island  Magee,  and  at  other  places  to  which  she  was 
removed.  The  circumstances  sworn  on  the  trial  were  as  fol 
lows  : — • 

"The  afflicted  person  being,  in  the  month  of  February.  1711.  in 
the  house  of  James  Hattridge,  Island  Magee  (which  had  been 
for  some  time  believed  to  be  haunted  by  evil  spirits),  found  an 
apron  on  the  parlor  floor,  that  had  been  missing  some  time,  tied 
with  //re  strange  knots,  which  she  loosened. 

'•  On  the  following  day  she  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  violent 
pain  in  her  thigh,  and  afterwards  fell  into  fits  and  ravings  :  and. 
on  recovering,  said  she  was  tormented  by  several  women,  whose 
dress  and  personal  appearance  she  minutely  described.  Shortly 
after,  she  was  again  seized  with  the  like  fits,  and  on  recovering 
she  accused  five  other  women  of  tormenting  her,  describing  f  h'-m 
also.  The  accused  persons  being  brought  from  different  parts  of 
the  country,  she  appeared  to  suffer  extreme  fear  and  additional 
torture  as  they  approached  the  house. 

"  It  was  also  deposed,  that  strange  noises,  as  of  whistling, 
scratching,  etc..  were  heard  in  the  house,  and  that  a  sulphured  is 
smell  was  observed  in  the  rooms  :  that  stones,  turf,  and  the  liK'> 
were  thrown  about  the  house,  and  the  coverlets,  etc.,  frequently 
taken  off  the  beds  and  made  up  in  the  shape  of  a  corpse  ;  and 

211 


212  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

her.  The  first  is  always  feared  and  hated.  The  second 
is  gone  to  for  advice,  and  is  never  worse  than  mischievous. 
The  most  celebrated  fairy  doctors  are  sometimes  people 
the  fairies  loved  and  carried  away,  and  kept  with  them 
for  seven  years  ;  not  that  those  the  fairies'  love  are  always 
carried  off — they  may  merely  grow  silent  and  strange,  and 
taken  to  lonely  wanderings  in  the  "  gentle  "  places.  Such 
will,  in  after-times,  be  great  poets  or  musicians,  or  fairy 
doctors  ;  they  must  not  be  confused  with  those  who  have 
a  Lianhaun  shee  [leanndn-sidhe],  for  the  Lianhaun  shee 
lives  upon  the  vitals  of  its  chosen,  and  they  waste  and  die. 

that  a  bolster  once  walked  out  of  a  room  into  the  kitchen  with  \i 
night-gown  about  it !  It  likewise  appeared  in  evidence  that  in 
some  of  her  fits  three  strong  men  were  scarcely  able  to  hold  her 
in  the  bed  ;  that  at  times  she  vomited  feathers,  cotton  yarn,  pins, 
and  buttons  ;  and  that  on  one  occasion  she  slid  off  the  bed  and 
was  laid  on  the  floor,  as  if  supported  and  drawn  by  an  invincible 
power.  The  afflicted  person  was  unable  to  give  any  evidence  on 
the  trial,  being  during  that  time  dumb,  but  had  no  violent  fit 
during  its  continuance." 

In  defence  of  the  accused,  it  appeared  that  they  were  mostly 
sober,  industrious  people,  who  attended  public  worship,  could 
repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  had  been  known  to  pray  both  in 
public  and  private  ;  and  that  some  of  them  had  lately  received 
communion. 

Judge  Upton  charged  the  jury,  and  observed  on  the  regular 
attendance  of  accused  at  public  worship  ;  remarking  that  he 
thought  it  improbable  that  real  witches  could  so  far  retain  the 
form  of  religion  as  to  frequent  the  religious  worship  of  God,  both 
publicly  and  privately,  which  had  been  proved  in  favor  of  the 
accused.  He  concluded  by  giving  his  opinion  "that  the  jury 
could  not  bring  them  in  guilty  upon  the  sole  testimony  of  the 
afflicted  person's  visionary  images."  He  was  followed  by  Judge 
Macarthy.  who  differed  from  him  in  opinion,  "and  thought  the 
jury  might,  from  the  evidence,  bring  them  in  guilty,"  which 
they  accordingly  did. 

This  trial  lasted  from  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  two  in  the 
afternoon  :  and  the  prisoners  were  sentenced  to  be  imprisoned 
twelve  months,  and  to  stand  four  times  in  the  pillory  of  Carrick- 
fergus. 

Tradition  says  that  the  people  were  much  exasperated  against 
these  unfortunate  persons,  who  were  severely  pelted  in  the  pillory 
with  boiled  cabbage  stalks  and  the  like,  by  which  one  of  them 
had  an  eye  beaten  out. 


WITCHES,  FAIRY  DOCTORS.  213 

She  is  of  the  dreadful  solitary  fairies.  To  her  have  be 
longed  the  greatest  of  the  Irish  poets,  from  Oisin  down  to 
the  last  century. 

Those  we  speak  of  have  for  their  friends  the  trooping 
fairies — the  gay  and  social >le  populace  of  raths  and  eaves. 
Great  is  their  knowledge  of  herbs  and  spells.  These 
doctors;  when  the  butter  will  not  come  on  the  milk,  or 
the  milk  will  not  come  from  the  cow,  will  be  sent  for  to 
rind  out  if  the  cause  be  in  the  course  of  common  nature 
or  if  there  has  been  witchcraft.  Perhaps  some  old  hag  in 
the  shape  of  a  hare  has  been  milking  the  cattle.  Perhaps 
some  user  of  "the  dead  hand  "  has  drawn  a  way  the  butter 
to  her  own  churn.  Whatever  it  be,  there  is  the  counter- 
charm.  They  will  give  advice,  too,  in  cases  of  suspected 
changelings,  and  prescribe  for  the  "  fairy  blast  (when  the 
fairy  strikes  any  one  a  tumor  rises,  or  they  become 
paralyzed.  This  is  called  a  " fairy  blast''  or  a  " fairy 
stroke  ")  The  fairies  are,  or  course,  visible  to  them,  and 
many  a  new-built  house  have  they  bid  the  owner  pull 
down  because  it  lay  on  the  fairies'1  road.  Lady  Wilde  thus 
describes  one  who  lived  in  Innis  Sark  : — uHe  never 
touched  beer,  spirits,  or  meat  in  all  his  life,  but  has  lived 
entirely  on  bread,  fruit,  and  vegetables.  A  man  who 
knew  him  thus  describes  him — '  Winter  and  summer  his 
dress  is  the  same — merely  a  flannel  shirt  and  coat,  lie 
will  pay  his  share  at  a  feast,  but  neither  eats  nor  drinks 
of  the  food  and  drink  set  before  him.  He  speaks  no  Eng 
lish,  and  never  could  be  made  to  learn  the  English  tongue, 
though  he  says  it  might  be  used  with  great  effect  to  curse 
one's  enemy.  He  holds  a  burial-ground  sacred,  and  would 
not  carry  away  so  much  as  a  leaf  of  ivy  from  a  grave. 
And  he  maintains  that  the  people  are  right  to  keep  to  their 
ancient  usages,  such  as  never  to  dig  a  grave  on  a  Monday, 
and  to  carry  the  coffin  three  times  round  the,  grave, 
following  the  course  of  the  sun,  for  then  the  dead  rest  in 
peace.  Like  the  people,  also,  he  holds  suicides  as  accursed ; 
for  they  believe  that  all  its  dead  turn  over  on  their  faces 
if  a  suicide  is  laid  amongst  them. 


214  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  '  Though  well  off,  he  never,  even  in  his  youth,  thought, 
of  taking  a  wife ;  nor  was  he  ever  known  to  love  a  woman. 
He  stands  quite  apart  from  life,  and  by  this  means  holds 
his  power  over  the  mysteries.  No  money  will  tempt  him 
to  impart  his  knowledge  to  another,  for  if  he  did  he  would 
be  struck  dead — so  he  believes.  He  would  not  touch  a 
hazel  stick,  but  carries  an  ash  wand,  which  he  holds  in 
his  hand  when  he  prays,  laid  across  his  knees ;  and  the 
whole  of  his  life  is  devoted  to  works  of  grace  and  charity, 
and  though  now  an  old  man,  he  has  never  had  a  day's 
sickness.  No  one  has  ever  seen  him  in  a  rage,  nor  heard 
an  angry  word  from  his  lips  but  once,  and  then  being 
under  great  irritation,  he  recited  the  Lord's  Prayer  hack- 
wards  as  an  imprecation  on  his  enemy.  Before  his  death 
he  will  reveal  the  mystery  of  his  power,  but  not  till  the 
hand  of  death  is  on  him  for  certain.'"  When  he  does 
reveal  it,  we  may  be  sure  it  will  be  to  one  person  only — 
his  successor.  There  are  several  such  doctors  in  County 
Sligo,  really  well  up  in  herbal  medicine  by  all  accounts, 
and  my  friends  find  them  in  their  own  counties.  All  these 
things  go  on  merrily.  The  spirit  of  the  age  laughs  in 
vain,  and  is  itself  only  a  ripple  to  pass,  or  already  passing, 
away. 

The  spells  of  the  witch  are  altogether  different ;  they 
smell  of  the  grave.  One  of  the  most  powerful  is  the 
charm  of  the  dead  hand.  With  a  hand  cut  from  a  corpse 
they,  muttering  words  of  power,  will  stir  a  well  and  skim 
from  its  surface  a  neighbor's  butter. 

A  candle  held  between  the  fingers  of  the  dead  hand  can 
never  be  bloAvn  out.  This  is  useful  to  robbers,  but  they 
appeal  for  the  suffrage  of  the  lovers  likewise,  for  they  can 
make  love-potions  by  drying  and  grinding  into  powder 
the  liver  of  a  black  cat.  Mixed  with  tea,  and  poured 
from  a  black  teapot,  it  is  infallible.  There  are  many 
stories  of  its  success  in  quite  recent  years,  but,  unhappily, 
the  spell  must  be  continually  renewed,  or  all  the  love  may 
turn  into  hate.  But  the  central  notion  of  witchcraft 
everywhere  is  the  power  to  change  into  some  fictitious 


WITCHES,  FAIRY  DOCTORS.  215 

form,  usually  in  Ireland  a  hare  or  a,  cat.  Long  ago  a  wolf 
was  the  favorite.  Before  (-Jiralclus  Cambrensis  came  to 
Ireland,  a  monk  wandering  in  a  forest  at  night  came  upon 
two  wolves,  one  of  whom  was  dying.  The  other  entreated 
him  to  give  the  dying  wolf  the  last  sacrament.  He  said 
the  mass,  and  paused  when  he  came  to  the  viaticum. 
The  other,  on  seeing  this,  tore  the  skin  from  the  hreast 
of  the  dying  wolf,  laying  hare  the  form  of  an  old  woman. 
Thereon  the  monk  gave  the  sacrament.  Years  afterwards 
he  confessed  the  matter,  and  when  (iiraldus  visited  the 
countrv,  was  being  tried  hy  the  synod  of  the  bishops. 
To  give  the  sacrament  to  an  animal  was  a  great  sin.  Was 
it  a  hn ma n  being  or  an  animal  ?  On  the  advice  of  <  ii raid ns 
they  sent  the  monk,  with  papers  describing  the  matter, 
to  the  Pope  for  his  decision.  The  result  is  not  stated. 

(iiraldus  himself  was  of  opinion  that  the  wolf-form  was 
an  illusion,  for,  as  lie  argued,  only  (iod  can  change  the 
form.  Ilis  opinion  coincides  with  tradition,  Irish  and 
otherwise. 

It  is  the  notion  of  many  who  have  written  about  these, 
things  that  magic  is  mainly  the  making  of  such  illusions. 
Patrick  Kennedy  tells  a  story  of  a  girl  who,  having  in  her 
hand  a  sod  of  grass  containing,  unknown  to  herself,  a 
four-leaved  shamrock,  watched  a  conjurer  at  a  fair.  Now, 
the  four-leaved  shamrock  guards  its  owner  from  all 
•jtix/KH/Hctt  (spells),  and  when  the  others  were  staring  at  a, 
cock  carrying  along  the  roof  of  a  shed  a  huge  beam  in  its 
bill,  she  asked  them  what  they  found  to  wonder  at  in  a 
cock  with  a  straw.  The  conjurer  begged  from  her  the 
sod  of  grass,  to  give1  to  his  horse,  he  said.  Immediately 
she  cried  out  in  terror  that  the  beam  would  fall  and  kill 
somebody. 

This,  then,  is  to  be  remembered — the  form  of  an  en 
chanted  thing  is  a  fiction  and  a  caprice. 


216  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

BEWITCHED  BUTTER  (DONEGAL). 

MISS    LETITIA    MACLIXTOCK. 

NOT  far  from  Rathmullen  lived,  last  spring,  a  family 
called  Hanlon ;  and  in  a  farm-house,  some  fields  distant, 
people  named  Dogherty.  Both  families  had  good  cows, 
but  the  Hanlons  were  fortunate  in  possessing  a  Kerry 
cow  that  gave  more  milk  and  yellower  butter  that  the 
others. 

Grace  Dogherty,  a  young  girl,  who  was  more  admired 
than  loved  in  the  neighborhood,  took  much  interest  in 
the  Kerry  cow,  and  appeared  one  night  at  Mrs.  Hanlon's 
door  with  the  modest  request — 

"  Will  you  let  me  milk  your  Moiley  cow  ?  " 

"  An'  why  wad  you  wish  to  milk  wee  Moiley,  Grace, 
dear  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Hanlon. 

"  Oh,  just  becase  you're  sae  throng  at  the  present  time." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  Grace,  but  I'm  no  too  throng  to  do 
my  am  work.  I'll  no  trouble  you  to  milk." 

The  girl  turned  away  with  a  discontented  air ;  but  the 
next  evening,  and  the  next,  found  her  at  the  cow-house 
door  with  the  same  request. 

At  length  Mrs.  Hanlon,  not  knowing  well  how  to  per 
sist  in  her  refusal,  yielded,  and  permitted  Grace  to  milk 
the  Kerry  cow. 

She  soon  had  reason  to  regret  her  want  of  firmness. 
Moiley  gave  no  more  milk  to  her  owner. 

When  this  melancholy  state  of  things  lasted  for  three 
days,  the  Hanlons  applied  to  a  certain  Mark  McCarrion, 
who  lived  near  Binion. 

"  That  cow  has  been  milked  by  some  one  with  an  evil 
eye,"  said  he.  "  Will  she  give  you  a  wee  drop,  do  you 
think  ?  The  full  of  a  pint  measure  wad  do," 


A  gi'tiElvT'S  COUNTY  WITCH.  217 

u  Oh,  ay,  Mark,  dear  ;  I'll  get  that  much  milk  frae  her, 
any  way." 

"  \Veel,  Mrs.  Ilanlon,  lock  the  door,  an'  get  nine  new 
pins  that  was  never  used  in  clothes,  aif  put  them  into  a 
saucepan  wi'  the  pint  o'  milk.  Set  them  on  the  tire,  an' 
let  them  come  to  the  boil." 

The  nine  pins  soon  began  to  simmer  in  Motley's*  milk. 

Rapid  steps  were  heard  approaching  the  door,  agitated 
knocks  followed,  and  (irace  Dogherty's  high-toned  voice 
was  raised  in  eager  entreaty. 

"Let  me  in,  Mrs.  Ilanlon  !  "  she  cried.  c-  Tuk  off  that 
cruel  pot!  Tak  out  them  pins,  for  they're  pricking  holes 
in  my  heart,  an'  I'll  never  offer  to  touch  milk  of  yours 
again." 

[There  is  hardly  a  village  in  Ireland  where  the  milk  is 
not  thus  believed  to  have  been  stolen  times  upon  times. 
There  are  many  counter-charms.  Sometimes  the  coulter 
of  a  plow  will  be  heated  red-hot,  and  the  witch  will  rush 
in,  crying  out  that  she  is  burning.  A  new  horse-shoe  or 
donkey-shoe,  heated  and  put  under  the  churn,  with  three 
straws,  if  possible,  stolen  at  midnight  from  over  the 
witches'  door,  is  quite  infallible. — ED.] 


A  QUEEN'S    COUNTY   WITCH  f 

IT  was  about  eighty  years  ago,  in  the  month  of  May, 
that  a  Roman  Catholic  clergyman,  near  Rathdowney,  in 
the  Queen's  County,  was  awakened  at  midnight  to  attend 
a  dying  man  in  a  distant  part  of  the  parish.  The  priest 
obeyed  without  a  murmur,  and  having  performed  his  duty 

*  In  Connaught  called  a  "  rmveea"  cow — /.  e. ,  a  co\v  without 
horns.  Irish  maol,  literally,  blunt.  When  the  new  hammerless 
breechloaders  came  into  use  two  or  three  years  ago.  Mr.  Douglas 
Hyde  heard  a  Connaught  gentleman  speak  of  them  as  the 
"  mweeal  "  guns,  because  they  had  no  cocks. 

f  Dublin  University  Review,  1839. 


218  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

to  the  expiring  sinner,  saw  him  depart  this  world  before 
he  left  the  cabin.  As  it  was  yet  dark,  the  man  who  had 
called  on  the  priest  ottered  to  accompany  him  home,  but 
he  refused,  and  set  forward  on  his  journey  alone.  The 
gray  dawn  began  to  appear  over  the  hills.  The  good 
priest  was  highly  enraptured  with  the  beauty  of  the  scene, 
and  rode  on,  now  gazing  intently  at  every  surrounding 
object,  and  again  cutting  with  his  whip  at  the  bats  and 
big  beautiful  night-flies  which  flitted  ever  and  anon  from 
hedge  to  hedge  across  his  lonely  way.  Thus  engaged,  he 
journeyed  on  slowly,  until  the  nearer  approach  of  sunrise 
began  to  render  objects  completely  discernible,  when  he 
dismounted  from  his  horse,  and  slipping  his  arm  out  of 
the  rein,  and  drawing  forth  his  "  Breviary  "  from  his 
pocket,  he  commenced  reading  his  "  morning  office  "  as  he 
Avalked  leisurely  along. 

He  had  not  proceeded  very  far,  when  he  observed  his 
horse,  a  very  spirited  animal,  endeavoring  to  stop  on  the 
road,  and  gazing  intently  into  a  field  on  one  side  of  the 
way  where  there  were  three  or  four  cows  grazing.  How 
ever,  he  did  not  pay  any  particular  attention  to  this  cir 
cumstance,  but  went  011  a  little  farther,  when  the  horse 
suddenly  plunged  with  great  violence,  and  endeavored  to 
break  away  by  force.  The  priest  with  great  difficulty 
succeeded  in  restraining  him,  and,  looking  at  him  more 
closely,  observed  him  shaking  from  head  to  foot,  and 
sweating  profusely.  He  now  stood  calmly,  and  refused 
to  move  from  where  he  was,  nor  could  threats  or  entreaty 
induce  him  to  proceed.  The  father  was  greatly  astonished, 
but  recollecting  to  have  often  heard  of  horses  laboring 
under  affright  being  induced  to  go  by  blindfolding  them, 
he  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  tied  it  across  his  eyes. 
lie  then  mounted,  and,  striking  him  gently,  he  went  for 
ward  without  reluctance,  but  still  sweating  and  trembling 
violently.  They  had  not  gone  far,  when  they  arrived 
opposite  a  narrow  path  or  bridle- way,  flanked  at  either 
side  by  a  tall,  thick  hedge,  which  led  from  the  high-road 
to  the  field  where  the  cows  were  grazing.  The  priest 


A  QUEEN'S  fOL'NTY  WITCH. 

happened  by  chance  to  look  into  the  lane,  and  sa\v  a 
spectacle  which  made  the  blood  curdle  in  his  veins.  It 
was  the  legs  of  a  man  from  the  hips  downwards,  without 
head  or  body,  trotting1  up  the  avenue  at  a  smart  pace. 
The  #oo(l  father  was  very  much  alarmed,  but,  being  a 
man  of  strong  nerve,  he  resolved,  come  what  might,  to 
stand,  and  be  further  acquainted  with  this  singular  specter, 
lie  accordingly  stood,  and  so  did  the  headless  apparition, 
as  if  afraid  to  approach  him.  The  priest,  observing  this, 
pulled  back  a  little  from  the  entrance  of  the  avenue,  and 
the  phantom  again  resumed  its  progress.  It  soon  arrived 
on  the  road,  and  the  priest  now  had  sufficient  opportunity 
to  view  it  minutely.  It  wore  yellow  buckskin  breeches, 
tightly  fastened  at  the  knees  with  green  ribbon  ;  it  had 
neither  shoes  nor  stockings  on,  and  its  legs  were  covered 
with  long,  red  hairs,  and  all  full  of  wet,  blood,  and  clay, 
apparently  contracted  in  its  progress  through  the  thorny 
hedges.  The  priest,  although  very  much  alarmed,  felt 
eager  to  examine  the  phantom,  and  for  this  purpose  sum 
moned  all  his  philosophy  to  enable  him  to  speak  to  it. 
The  ghost  was  now  a  little  ahead,  pursuing  its  march  at 
its  usual  brisk  trot,  and  the  priest  urged  on  his  horse, 
speedily  until  he  came  up  with  it,  and  thus  addressed  it— 

"  Ililloa,  friend  !  who  art  thou,  or  whither  art  thou  going 
so  early  ?  " 

The  hideous  specter  made  no  reply,  but  uttered  a  fierce 
and  superhuman  growl,  or  "  Umph." 

"  A  fine  morning  for  ghosts  to  wander  abroad,"  again 
said  the  priest. 

Another  u  Tmph  "  was  the  reply. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  " 

"Umph." 

u  You  don't  seem  disposed  to  be  very  loquacious  this 
morning." 

"  I'mph,"  again. 

The  good  man  began  to  feel  irritated  at  the  obstinate 
silence  of  his  unearthly  visitor,  and  said,  with  some 
warmth — 


L>0()  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  In  the  name  of  all  that's  sacred,  I  command  you  to 
answer  me,  Who  art  thou,  or  where  art  thou  traveling  ?  " 

Another  "  Umpli,"  more  loud  and  more  angry  than  be 
fore,  was  the  only  reply. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  father,  "  a  taste  of  whipcord  might 
render  you  a  little  more  communicative ;  "  and  so  saying, 
he  struck  the  apparition  a  heavy  bloAV  with  his  whip  on 
the  breech. 

The  phantom  uttered  a  wild  and  unearthly  yell,  and 
fell  forward  on  the  road,  and  what  was  the  priest's  aston 
ishment  when  he  perceived  the  whole  place  running  over 
with  milk.  He  was  struck  dumb  with  amazement ;  the 
prostrate  phantom  still  continued  to  eject  vast  quantities 
of  milk  from  every  part ;  the  priest's  head  swam,  his  eyes 
got  dizzy ;  a  stupor  came  all  over  him  for  some  minutes, 
and  on  his  recovering,  the  frightful  specter  had  vanished, 
and  in  its  stead  he  found  stretched  on  the  road,  and  half 
drowned  in  milk,  the  form  of  Sarah  Kennedy,  an  old 
woman  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  been  long  notorious 
in  that  district  for  her  witchcraft  and  superstitious 
practices,  and  it  was  now  discovered  that  she  had,  by  in 
fernal  aid,  assumed  that  monstrous  shape,  and  was  em 
ployed  that  morning  in  sucking  the  cows  of  the  village. 
Had  a  volcano  burst  forth  at  his  feet,  he  could  not  be 
more  astonished  ;  he  gazed  awhile  in  silent  amazement — 
the  old  woman  groaning,  and  writhing  convulsively. 

"  Sarah,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  I  have  long  admonished 
you  to  repent  of  your  evil  ways,  but  you  were  deaf  to  my 
entreaties ;  and  now,  wretched  woman,  you  are  surprised 
in  the  midst  of  your  crimes." 

"  Oh,  father,  father,"  shouted  the  unfortunate  woman, 
"  can  you  do  nothing  to  save  me  ?  I  am  lost ;  hell  is 
open  for  me,  and  legions  of  devils  surround  me  this 
moment,  waiting  to  carry  my  soul  to  perdition." 

The  priest  had  not  power  to  reply ;  the  old  wretch's 
pains  increased ;  her  body  swelled  to  an  immense  size ; 
her  eyes  flashed  as  if  on  fire,  her  face  was  black  as  night, 
her  entire  form  writhed  in  a  thousand  different  contor- 


THE  WITCH  HARE.  o-JL 

tions ;  her  outcries  were  appalling,  her  face  sunk,  her 
eyes  closed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  she  expired  in  the  most 
exquisite  tortures. 

The  priest  departed  homewards,  and  called  at  the  next 
cabin  to  give  notice  of  the  strange  circumstances.  The 
remains  of  Sarah  Kennedy  were  removed  to  her  cabin, 
situate  at  the  edge  of  a  small  wood  at  a  little  distance. 
She  had  long  been  a  resident  in  that  neighborhood,  but 
still  she  was  a  stranger,  and  came  there  no  one  knew  from 
whence.  She  had  no  relation  in  that  country  but  one 
daughter,  now  advanced  in  years,  who  resided  witb  her. 
She  kept  one  cow,  but  sold  more  butter,  it  was  said,  than 
any  farmer  in  the  parish,  and  it  was  generally  suspected 
that  she  acquired,  it  by  devilish  agency,  as  she  never  made 
a  secret  of  being  intimately  acquainted  with  sorcery  and 
fairyism.  She  professed  the  Koinan  Catholic  religion,  but 
never  complied  with  the  practices  enjoined  by  that  church, 
and  her  remains  were  denied  Christian  sepulture,  and 
wen1  buried  in  a  sand-pit  near  her  own  cabin. 

On  the  (,'vening  of  her  burial,  the  villagers  assembled 
and  burned  her  cabin  to  the  earth.  Her  daughter  made 
her  escape,  and  never  after  returned. 


THE  WITCH  HAKE. 

Mil.    AND    MRS.     S.    <'.     HALL. 

T  WAS  out  thracking  hares  meeself,  and  I  seen  a  fine  puss 
of  a  thing  hopping  hopping  in  the  moonlight,  and  whacking 
her  ears  about,  now  up,  now  down,  and  winking  her  great 
eyes,  and — "Here  goes,"  says  I,  and  the  thing  was  so  close 
to  me  that  she  turned  round  and  looked  at  me,  and  then 
bounced  back,  as  well  as  to  say,  do  your  worst!  So  I  had 
the  least  grain  in  life  of  biased  prnrrft-r  left,  and  T  put  it  in 
the  gun — and  bang  at  her!  .Aly  jewel,  the  scritch  she 
gave  would  frighten  a  rigment,  and  a  mist,  like,  came  be- 


222  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

twixt  me  and  her,  and  I  seen  her  110  more ;  but  when  the 
mist  wint  off  I  saw  blood  on  the  spot  where  she  had  been, 
and  I  followed  its  track,  and  at  last  it  led  me — whist, 
whisper — right  up  to  Katey  MacShane's  door ;-  and  when 
I  was  at  the  thrashold,  I  heerd  a  murnin'  within,  a  great 
murnin',  and  a  groanin',  and  I  opened  the  door,  and  there 
she  was  herself,  sittin'  quite  content  in  the  shape  of  a 
woman,  and  the  black  cat  that  was  sittin'  by  her  rose  up 
its  back  and  spit  at  me ;  but  I  went  on  never  heedin', 
and  asked  the  ould  -  -  how  she  was  and  what  ailed  her. 

"Nothing,"  sis  she. 

"  What's  that  on  the  floor  ?  "  sis  I. 

"  Oh,"  she  say,  "  I  was  cuttin'  a  billet  of  wood,"  she  says, 
"  wid  the  reaping  hook,"  she  says,  "  an'  I've  wounded  me- 
self  in  the  leg,"  she  says, "  and  that's  drops  of  my  precious 
blood,"  she  says. 


BEWITCHED  BUTTER  (QUEEN'S  COUNTY).* 

ABOUT  the  commencement  of  the  last  century  there 
lived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  once  famous  village  of  Agha- 
voe  f  a  wealthy  famer,  named  Bryan  Costigan.  This  man 
kept  an  extensive  dairy  and  a  great  many  milch  cows,  and 
every  year  made  considerable  sums  by  the  sale  of  milk 
and  butter.  The  luxuriance  of  the  pasture  lands  in  this 
neighborhood  has  always  been  proverbial ;  and  conse 
quently,  Bryan's  cows  were,  the  finest  and  most  produc 
tive  in  the  country,  and  his  milk  and  butter  the  richest  and 
sweetest,  and  brought  the  highest  price  at  every  market 
at  which  he  offered  these  articles  for  sale. 

*  Dublin  University    Magazine,  1839. 

\Agltavoe — "  the  field  of  kine," — a  beautiful  and  romantic  vil 
lage  near  Borris-in-Ossory,  in  the  Queen's  County.  It  was 
once  a  place  of  considerable  importance,  and  for  centuries  the 
episcopal  seat  of  the  diocese  of  Ossory,  but  for  ages  back  it 
has  gone  to  decay,  and  is  now  remarkable  for  nothing  but  the 
magnificent  runs  of  a  priory  of  the  Dominicans,  erected  here  at 
an  early  period  by  St.  Canice,  the  patron  saint  of  Ossory. 


GUTTER.  003 

Things  continued  to  go  on  ilms  prosperously  with  Bryan. 
Costigan,  when,  one  season,  all  at  once,  he  found  his 
cattle  declining  in  appearance,  and  his  daily  almost  entire 
ly  profitless.  Bryan,  at  first,  attributed  this  change  to 
the  weather,  or  some  such  cause,  hut  soon  found  or  fan 
cied  reasons  to  assign  it  to  a  far  different  source.  The 
cows,  without  any  visible  disorder,  daily  declined,  and 
were  scarcely  able  to  crawl  about  on  their  pasture  :  many 
of  them,  instead  of  milk,  gave  nothing  but  blood;  and 
the  scanty  quantity  of  milk  which  some  of  them  contin 
ued  to  supply  was  so  bitter  that  even  the  pigs  would  not 
drink  it;  whilst  the  butter  which  it  produced  was  of  such 
a  bad  quality,  and  stunk  so  horribly,  that  the  very  dogs 
would  not  eat  it.  Bryan  applied  for  remedies  to  all  the 
quacks  and  "  fairy- women"  in  the  country — but  in  vain. 
Many  of  the  impostors  declared  that  the  mysterious  mal 
ady  in  his  cattle  went  beyound  f/tt.-ir  skill  ;  whilst  others, 
although  they  found  no  difficulty  in  tracing  it  to  super 
human  agency,  declared  that  they  had  no  control  in  the 
matter,  as  the  charm  under  the  influence  of  which  his 
property  was  made  away  with,  was  too  powerful  to  be  dis 
solved  by  anything  less  than  the  special  interposition  of 
Divine  Providence.  The  poor  farmer  became  almost  dis 
tracted  ;  he  saw  ruin  staring  him  in  the  face  ;  yet  what 
was  he  to  do  ?  Sell  his  cattle  and  purchase  others  !  No  ; 
tlr.it  was  out  of  the  question,  as  they  looked  so  miserable 
and  emaciated,  that  no  one  would  even  take  them  as  a 
present,  whilst  it  was  also  impossible  to  sell  to  a  butcher, 
as  tli3  flesh  of  one  which  he  killed  for  his  own  family  was 
as  black  as  a  coal,  and  stunk  like  any  putrid  carrion. 

The  unfortunate  man  was  thus  completely  bewildered, 
lie  knew  not  what  to  do  ;  he  became  moody  and  stupid; 
his  sleep  forsook  him  by  night,  and  all  day  he  wandered 
about  the  fields,  amongst  his  "fairy-stricken"  cattle  like  a 
maniac. 

Affairs  continued  in  this  plight,  when  one  very  sultry 
evening  in  the  latter  days  of  July,  Bryan  Costigan's  wife 
was  sitting  at  her  own  door,  spinning  at  her  wheel,  in  a, 


1RISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

very  gloomy  and  agitated  state  of  mind.  Happening  to 
look  down  the  narrow  green  lane  which  led  from  the  high 
road  to  her  cabin,  she  espied  a  little  old  woman  barefoot, 
and  enveloped  in  an  old  scarlet  cloak,  approaching  slowly, 
with  the  aid  of  a  crutch  which  she  carried  in  one  hand, 
and  a  cane  or  Avalking- stick  in  the  other.  The  farmer's 
wife  felt  glad  at  seeing  the  odd-looking  stranger;  she 
smiled,  and  yet  she  knew  not  why,  as  she  neared  the  house. 
A  vague  and  indefinable  feeling  of  pleasure  crowded  on 
her  imagination ;  and,  as  the  old  woman  gained  the  thresh 
old,  she  bade  her  "  welcome  "  with  a  warmth  which  plainly 
told  that  her  lips  gave  utterance  but  to  the  genuine  feel 
ings  of  her  heart. 

"God  bless  this  good  house  and  all  belonging  to  it," 
said  the  stranger  as  she  entered. 

"  God  save  you  kindly,  and  you  are  welcome,  whoever 
you  are,"  replied  Mrs.  Costiga.ii. 

"  Hem,  I  thought  so,  said  the  old  woman  with  a  sig 
nificant  grin.  "  I  thought  so,  or  I  wouldn't  trouble  you." 

The  farmer's  wife  ran,  and  placed  a  chair  near  the  fire 
for  the  stranger ;  but  she  refused,  and  sat  on  the  ground 
near  where  Mrs.  C.  had  been  spinning.  Mrs.  Costigan 
had  now  time  to  survey  the  old  hag's  person  minutely. 
She  appeared  of  great  age  ;  her  countenance  was  extremely 
ugly  and  repulsive ;  her  skin  was  rough  and  deeply  em 
browned  as  if  from  long  exposure  to  the  effects  of  some 
tropical  climate ;  her  forehead  was  low,  narrow,  and  in 
dented  with  a  thousand  wrinkles  ;  her  long  gray  hair  fell 
in  matted  elf-locks  from  beneath  a  white  linen  skull-cap ; 
her  eyes  were  bleared,  blood-shotten,  and  obliquely  set  in 
their  sockets,  and  her  voice  was  croaking,  tremulous,  and, 
at  times,  partially  inarticulate.  As  she  squatted  on  the 
floor,  she  looked  round  the  house  with  an  inquisitive  gaze  ; 
she  peered  pryingly  from  corner  to  corner,  with  an  earnest 
ness  of  look,  as  if  she  had  the  faculty,  like  the  Argonaut 
of  old,  to  see  through  the  very  depths  of  the  earth,  whilst 
Mrs.  C.  kept  watching  her  motions  with  mingled  feelings 
of  curiosity,  awe,  and  pleasure. 


BEWITCHED  BUTTER. 

"Mrs.,"  said  the  old  woman,  at  length  breaking  silence, 
"I  am  dry  with  the  iieat  of  the  day;  can  yon  give  me  a 
drink  V" 

"  Alas!"  replied  the  farmer's  wife,  "  I  have  no  drink  to 
offer  yon  except  \vater,  else  yon  would  have  no  occasion 
to  ask  me  for  it." 

"  Are  yon  not  the  owner  of  the  cattle  I  see  yonder  ?  "  said 
the  old  hag,  with  a  tone  of  voice  and  manner  of  gesticula 
tion  which  plainly  indicated  her  foreknowledge  of  the  fact. 

.Airs.  Costigan  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  briefly 
related  to  her  every  circumstance  connected  with  the 
affair,  whilst  the  old  woman  still  remained  silent,  but 
shook  her  gray  head  repeatedly;  and  still  continued 
ga/ing  round  the  house  with  an  air  of  importance  and 
self-sufficiency. 

AVhen  Airs.  ( '.  had  ended,  the  old  hag  remained  a  while 
as  if  in  a  deep  reverie  :  at  length  she  said 

4»  1  lave  yon  any  of  the  milk  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  I  have,"  replied  the  other. 

"  Show  me  some  of  it." 

She  tilled  a  jng  from  a  vessel  and  handed  it  to  the  old 
sybil,  who  smelled  it,  then  tasted  it,  and  spat  out  what 
she  had  taken  on  the  floor. 

"  Where  is  your  husband  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Out  in  the  fields,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  must  see  him." 

A  messenger  was  despatched  for  Hryan,  who  shortlv 
after  made  his  appearance. 

"Neighbor,"  said  the  stranger,  "yonr  wife  informs  me 
that  your  cattle  are  going  against  you  this  season/1 

"She  informs  yon  right,"  said  IJryan. 

"  And  why  have  yon  not  sought  a  cure  ?  " 

"A  cure!"  re-echoed  the  man;  "  why,  woman,  I  have 
sought  cures  until  I  was  heart-broken,  and  all  in  vain  ; 
they  get  worse  every  day." 

"  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  cure  them  for  you  ?  " 

"  Anything  in  our  power,"  replied  Bryan  and  his  wife, 
both  speaking  joyfully,  and  with  a  breath. 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  All  I  will  ask  from  you  is  a  silver  sixpence,  and  that 
you  will  do  everything  which  I  will  bid  you,"  said  she. 

The  farmer  and  his  wife  seemed  astonished  at  the  mod 
eration  of  her  demand.  They  offered  her  a  large  sum  of 
money. 

"  No,"  said  she,  "  I  don't  want  your  money  ;  I  am  no 
cheat,  and  I  would  not  even  take  sixpence,  but  that  I  can 
do  nothing  till  I  handle  some  of  your  silver." 

The  sixpence  was  immediately  given  her,  and  the  most 
implicit  obedience  promised  to  her  injunctions  by  both 
Bryan  and  his  wife,  who  already  began  to  regard  the  old 
beldame  as  their  tutelary  angel. 

The  hag  pulled  off  a  black  silk  ribbon  or  fillet  which  en 
circled  her  head  inside  her  cap,  and  gave  it  to  Bryan,  say 
ing— 

"Go,  now,  and  the  first  cow  you  touch  Avith  this  ribbon, 
turn  her  into  the  yard,  but  be  sure  don't  touch  the  second, 
nor  speak  a  word  until  you  return ;  be  also  careful  not  to 
let  the  ribbon  touch  the  grounc1,  for,  if  you  do,  all  is  over." 

Bryan  took  the  talismanic  ribbon,  and  soon  returned, 
driving  a  red  cow  before  him. 

The  old  hag  went  out,  and,  approaching  the  cow,  com 
menced  pulling  hairs  out  of  her  tail,  at  the  same  time  sing 
ing  some  verses  in  the  Irish  language  in  a  low,  wild,  and 
unconnected  strain.  The  cow  appeared  restive  and  uneasy, 
but  the  old  witch  still  continued  her  mysterious  chant 
until  she  had  the  ninth  hair  extracted.  She  then  ordered 
the  cow  to  be  drove  back  to  her  pasture,  and  again  entered 
the  house. 

"  Go,  now,  said  she  to  the  woman,  "  and  bring  me  some 
milk  from  every  cow  in  your  possession." 

She  went,  and  soon  returned  with  a  large  pail  filled  with 
a  frightful-looking  mixture  of  milk,  blood,  and  corrupt 
matter.  The  old  woman  got  it  into  the  churn,  and  made 
preparations  for  churning. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "you  both  must  churn,  make  fast  the 
door  and  windows,  and  let  there  be  no  light  but  from  the 
fire ;  do  not  open  your  lips  until  I  desire  you,  and  by  ob- 


BEWITCHED  BUTTER. 

serving  my  directions,  I  make  no  doubt  but,  ere  the  sun 
goes  down,  we  will  find  out  the  infernal  villain  who  is 
robbing  you.1" 

Bryan  secured  the  doors  and  windows,  and  commenced 
elmrning.  The  old  sorceress  sat  down  by  a  blazing  lire 
which  had  been  specially  lighted  for  the  occasion,  and  com 
menced  singing  the  same  wild  song  which  she  had  sung 
at  the  pulling  of  the  cow-hairs,  and  after  a  little  time  she 
cast  one  of  the  nine  hairs  into  the  tire,  still  singing  her 
mysterious  strain,  and  watching,  with  intense  interest,  the 
witching  process. 

A  loud  cry,  as  if  from  a  female  in  distress,  was  now 
heard  approaching  the  house;  the  old  witch  discontinued 
her  incantations,  and  listened  attentively.  The  crying 
voice  approached  the  door. 

u()pen  the  door  quickly," shouted  the  charmer. 

Bryan  unbarred  the  door,  and  all  three  rushed  out  in 
the  yard,  when  they  heard  the  same  cry  down  the  IHH-I  fm  //, 
but  could  see  nothing. 

"It  is  all  over,"  shouted  the  old  witch;  u  something 
has  goiR  amiss,  and  our  charm  for  the  present  -is  ineu'ee- 
tual." 

They  now  turned  back  quite  crestfallen,  when,  as  they 
were  entering  the  door,  the  sybil  cast  her  eyes  downwards, 
and  perceiving  a  piece  of  horse-shoe  nailed  on  the  thresh 
old,*  she  vociferated 

"Here!  have  it;  no  wonder  our  charm  was  abortive. 
The  person  that  was  crying  abroad  is  the  villain  who  lias 
your  cattle  bewitched  ;  I  brought  her  to  the  house,  but  she 
was  not  able  to  come  to  the  door  on  account  of  that  horse 
shoe.  Remove  it  instantly,  and  we  will  try  our  luck 
again." 

*It  was  once  a  common  practice  in  Ireland  to  nail  a  piece  of 
horse-shoe  on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  as  a  preservative  against 
the  influence  of  the  fairies,  who,  it  is  thought,  dare  not  enter  any 
house  thus  guarded.  This  custom,  however,  is  much  on  the  wane, 
but  still  it  is  prevalent  in  some  of  the  more  uncivilized  districts  of 
the  country. 


^x  imsi:  FAIKY  TALKS. 

Uryan  removed  the  horse-shoe  from  tlu;  doorway, and  by 
tin-  lull's  directions  placed  it  on  the  floor  under  the  churn, 
having  previously  reddened  it  in  the,  fire. 

They  again  resumed  their  manual  operations.  Uryan 
and  his  wife  began  to  churn,  and  the  witch  again  to  sing 
her  strange  verses,  and  casting  her  COW- hairs  into  the  fire 
until  she  had  them  all  nearly  exhausted.  Her  counte 
nance  now  began  to  exhibit  evident  traces  of  vexation  and 
disappointment.  She  got  quite  pale,  her  teeth  gnashed, 
her  hand  trembled,  and  as  she  east  the  ninth  and  last  hair 
into  the  tire,  her  person  exhibited  more  the  appearance  of 
a  female  demon  than  of  a  human  being. 

Once  more  the  cry  was  heard,  and  an  aged  red-haired 
woman  *  was  seen  approaching  the  house;  quickly. 

"  Ho,  ho!"  roared  the  sorceress,  "I  knew  it  would  be 
so;  my  charm  has  succeeded;  my  expectations  are 
realized,  and  here  she  comes,  the  villain  who  has  de 
stroyed  you." 

"  What  are  we  to  do  now?"  asked    Uryan. 

"  Say  nothing  to  her,"  said  UK;  hag;  "give;  her  what 
ever  she  demands,  and  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

The  woman  advanced  screeching  vehemently,  and 
Bryan  went  out  to  meet  her.  Sim  was  a  neighbor,  and 
she  said  that  one  of  her  best  cows  was  drowning  in  a  pool  of 
water — that  there  was  no  one  at  home  but  herself,  and  she 
implored  Uryan  to  go  rescue  the  cow  from  destruction. 

Uryan  accompanied  her  without  hesitation  ;  and  having 
rescued  the  cow  from  her  perilous  situation,  was  back 
again  in  a-  quarter  of  an  hour. 

It  was  now  sunset,  and  Mrs.  Costigan  set  about  prepar 
ing  supper. 

During  supper  they  reverted  to  the  singular  transac 
tions  of  the  day.     The  old  witch  uttered  many  a  fiendish 
laugh  at  the  success  of  her  incantations,  and  inquired  who 
was  the  woman  whom  they  had  so  curiously  discovered. 
Uryan  satisiird  h»-r  in   every   particular.     She  was  the 

*  Red-haired  people  are  thought  to  possess  magic  power. 


BEWITCHED  BUTTER.  2*20 

wife  of  a  neighboring  fanner;  her  name  was  Rachel 
lliggins  ;  and  she  had  been  long  suspected  to  be  on  famil 
iar  terms  with  the  spirit  of  darkness.  She  hud  live  or  six 
cows:  but  it  was  observed  by  her  sapient  neighbors  that 
she  sold  more  butter  every  year  than  other  farmers'  wives 
who  had  twenty.  Bryan  had,  from  the  commencement 
of  the  decline  in  his  cattle,  suspected  her  for  being  the 
aggressor,  but  as  he  had  no  proof,  he  held  his  peace. 

••  Well,"  said  the  old  beldame,  with  a  grim  smile,  "it 
is  imt  enough  that  we  have  merely  discovered  the  robber  ; 
all  is  in  vain,  if  we  do  not  take  steps  to  punish  her  for  the 
past,  as  well  as  to  prevent  her  inroads  for  the  future. M 

"  And  how  will  that  be  done?"  said  Bryan. 

*•  I  will  tell  yon;  as  soon  as  the  hour  of  twelve  o'clock 
arrives  to-night,  do  yon  go  to  the  pasture,  and  take  a 
couple  of  swift-running  dogs  with  yon  ;  conceal  yourself 
in  some  place  convenient  to  the  cattle  ;  watch  them  care 
fully  :  and  if  von  see  anything,  whether  man  or  beast,  ap 
proach  the  cows,  set  on  the  dogs,  and  if  possible  make 
them  draw  the  blood  of  the  intruder;  then  AM.  will  be 
accomplished.  If  nothing  approaches  before  sunrise,  you 
may  iviurn,  and  we  will  trv  something  else."1 

Convenient  there  lived  the  cow-herd  of  a  neighboring 
squire.  He  was  a  hardy,  courageous  young  man,  and  al 
ways  kepi  a  pair  of  very  ferocious  bull-dogs.  To  him 
BryaJi  applied  for  assistance,  and  he  cheerfully  agreed  to 
accompany  him,  and,  moreover,  proposed  to  fetch  a  couple 
of  his  master's  best  greyhounds,  as  hisown  dogs,  although 
extremely  fierce  and  bloodthirsty,  could  not  be  relied  on 
for  swiftness.  II«-  promised  Bryan  to  be  with  him  before 
twelve  o'clock  and  they  parted. 

Bryan  did  not  seek  sleep  that,  night  ;  he  sat  up  anx 
iously  awaiting  the  midnight  hour.  It  arrived  at  last, 
a:-  1  his  friend,  the  herdsman,  true  to  his  promise,  came  at, 
tht;  time  appointed.  After  SOUK-  further  admonitions 
from  the  < '<>ll<>u<]J^  they  departed.  Having  arrived  at  the 
field,  they  consulted  as  to  the  best  position  thpy  could 
fhorxp  for  concealment.  At  la?t  .they  pitched  on  a  r-mall 


230  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

brake  of  fern,  situated  at  the  extremity  of  the  field,  adja 
cent  to  the  boundary  ditch,  which  was  thickly  studded 
with  large,  old  white-thorn  bushes.  Here  they  crouched 
themselves,  and  made  the  dogs,  four  in  number,  lie  down 
beside  them,  eagerly  expecting  the  appearance  of  their  as 
yet  unknown  and  mysterious  visitor. 

Here  Bryan  and  his  comrade  continued  a  considerable 
time  in  nervous  anxiety,  still  nothing  approached,  and  it 
became  manifest  that  morning  was  at  hand  ;  they  were 
beginning  to  grow  impatient,  and  were  talking  of  return 
ing  home,  when  on  a  sudden  they  heard  a  rushing  sound 
behind  them,  as  if  proceeding  from  something  endeavoring 
to  force  a  passage  through  the  thick  hedge  in  their  real1. 
They  looked  in  that  direction,  and  judge  of  their  astonish 
ment,  when  they  perceived  a  large  hare  in  the  act  of 
springing  from  the  ditch,  and  leaping  on  the  ground  quite 
near  them.  They  were  now  convinced  that  this  was  the 
object  which  they  had  so  impatiently  expected,  and  they 
were  resolved  to  watch  her  motions  narroAvly. 

After  arriving  to  the  ground,  she  remained  motionless 
for  a  few  moments,  looking  around  her  sharply.  She  then 
began  to  skip  and  jump  in  a  playful  manner  ;  now  advanc 
ing  at  a  smart  pace  towards  the  cows,  and  again  retreat 
ing  precipitately,  but  still  dawing  nearer  and  nearer  at 
each  sally.  At  length  she  advanced  up  to  the  next  cow, 
and  sucked  her  for  a  moment;  then  on  to  the  next,  and  so 
respectively  to  every  cow  on  the  field — the  cows  all  the 
time  lowing  loudly,  and  appearing  extremely  frightened 
and  agitated.  Bryan,  from  the  moment  the  hare  com 
menced  sucking  the  first,  was  with  difficulty  restrained 
from  attacking  her ;  but  his  more  sagacious  companion 
suggested  to  him,  that  it  was  better  to  wait  until  she 
would  have  done,  as  she  would  then  be  much  heavier,  and 
more  unable  to  effect  her  escape  than  at  present.  And  so 
the  issue  proved  ;  for  being  now  done  sucking  them  all, 
her  belly  appeared  enormously  distended,  and  she  nia'lo 
her  exit  slowly  and  apparently  with  difficulty.  She  ad 
vanced  towards  the  hedge  where  she  had  entered,  and  as 


BEWITCHED  BUTTER.  2ol 

she  arrived  just  at  the  clump  of  ferns  where  her  foes  were 
couched,  they  started  up  with  a  fierce  yell,  and  hallooed 
the  dogs  upon  her  path. 

The  hare  started  off  at  a  brisk  pace,  squirting  up  the 
milk  she  had  sucked  from  her  mouth  and  nostrils,  and  the 
dogs  making  after  her  rapidly.  Rachel  Iliggins's  cabin 
appeared,  through  the  gray  of  the  morning  twilight,  at  a 
little  distance;  and  it  was  evident  that  puss  seemed  bent 
on  gaining  it,  although  she  made  a  considerable  circuit 
through  the  fields  in  the  real1.  Bryan  and  his  comrade, 
however,  had  their  thoughts,  and  made  towards  the  cabin 
by  the  shortest  route,  and  had  just  arrived  as  the  hare 
came  up,  panting  and  almost  exhausted,  and  the  dogs  at 
her  very  scut.  She  ran  round  the  house,  evidently  con 
fused  and  disappointed  at  the  presence  of  the  men,  but  at 
length  made  for  the  door.  In  the  bottom  of  the  door  was 
a  small,  semicircular  aperture,  resembling  those  cut  in 
fowl-house  doors  for  the  ingress  and  egress  of  poultry. 
To  gain  this  hole,  puss  now  made  a  last  and  desperate  ef 
fort,  and  had  succeeded  in  forcing  her  head  and  shoulders 
through  it,  when  the  foremost  of  the  dogs  made  a  spring 
and  seized  her  violently  by  the  haunch.  She  uttered  a 
loud  and  piercing  scream,  and  struggled  desperately  to 
free  herself  from  his  gripe,  and  at  last  succeeded,  but  not 
until  she  left  a  piece  of  her  rump  in  his  teeth.  The  men 
now  burst  open  the  door  ;  a  bright  turf  fire  blazed  on  the 
hearth,  and  the  whole  floor  was  streaming  with  blood. 
Xo  hare,  however,  could  be  found,  and  the  men  were  more 
than  ever  convinced  that  it  was  old  Rachel,  who  had,  by  the 
assistance  of  some  demon,  assumed  the  form  of  the  hare, 
and  they  now  determined  to  have  her  if  she  were  over  the 
earth.  They  entered  the  bedroom,  and  heard  some 
smothered  groaning,  as  if  proceeding  from  some  one  in 
extreme  agon}'.  They  went  to  the  corner  of  the  room  from 
whence  the  moans  proceeded,  and  there,  beneath  a  bundle 
of  freshly-cut  rushes,  found  the  form  of  Rachel  Higgins, 
writhing  in  the  most  excruciating  agony,  and  almost 
smothered  in  a  pool  of  bloorl.  Tbr  mpn  were  astounded  ; 


232  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

they  addressed  the  wretched  old  woman,  but  she  either 
could  not,  or  would  not  answer  them.  Her  wound  still 
bled  copiously  ;  her  tortures  appeared  to  increase,  it  was 
evident  that  she  was  dying.  The  aroused  family  thronged 
around  her  with  cries  and  lamentations  ;  she  did  not  seem 
to  heed  them,  she  got  worse  and  worse,  and  her  piercing 
yells  fell  awfully  on  the  ears  of  the  bystanders.  At  length 
she  expired,  and  her  corpse  exhibited  a  most  appalling 
spectacle,  even  before  the  spirit  had  well  departed. 

Bryan  and  his  friend  returned  home.  The  old  hag  had 
been  previously  aware  of  the  fate  of  Rachel  Higgins,  but 
it  was  not  known  by  what  means  she  aquired  her  super 
natural  knowledge.  She  was  delighted  at  the  issue  of 
her  mysterious  operations.  Bryan  pressed  her  much  to 
accept  of  some  remuneration  for  her  services,  but  she 
utterly  rejected  such  proposals.  She  remained  a  few 
days  at  his  house,  and  at  length  took  her  leave  and  de 
parted,  no  one  knew  whither. 

Old  Rachel's  remains  were  interred  that  night  in  the 
neighboring  churchyard.  Her  fate  soon  became  generally 
known,  and  her  family,  ashamed  to  remain  in  their  native 
village,  disposed  of  their  property,  and  quitted  the  country 
forever.  The  story,  however,  is  still  fresh  in  the  memory 
of  the  surrounding  villagers ;  and  often,  it  is  said,  amid 
the  gray  haze  of  a  summer  twilight,  may  the  ghost  of 
Rachel  Higgins,  in  the  form  of  a  hare,  be  seen  scudding 
over  her  favorite  and  well-remembered  haunts. 


THE  HORNED  WOMEN.  233 

THE  HORNED  WOMEN.* 

LADY  WILDE. 

A  RICH  woman  sat  up  late  one 'night  carding  and  pre- 
paring  wool,  while  all  the  family  and  servants  were 
asleep.  Suddenly  a  knock  was  given  at  the  door,  and  a 
voice  called — "  Open  !  open  !  " 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  said  the  woman  of  the  house. 

"  I  am  the  Witch  of  the  one  Horn,"  was  answered. 

The  mistress,  supposing  that  one  of  her  neighbors  had 
called  and  required  assistance,  opened  the  door,  and  a 
woman  entered,  having  in  her  hand  a  pair  of  wool  carders, 
and  bearing  a  horn  on  her  forehead,  as  if  growing  there. 
She  sat  down  by  the  fire  in  silence,  and  begun  to  card  the 
wool  with  violent  haste.  Suddenly  she  paused,  and  said 
aloud:  "Where  are  the  women?  they  delay  too  long." 

Then  a  second  knock  came  to  the  door,  and  a  voice 
called  as  before,  "  Open  !  open  !  " 

The  mistress  felt  herself  constrained  to  rise  and  open  to 
the  call,  and  immediately  a  second  Avitch  entered,  having 
two  horns  on  her  forehead,  and  in  her  hand  a  wheel  for 
spinning  wool. 

"  Give  me  place,"  she  said,  "  I  am  the  Witch  of  the  two 
Horns,"  and  she  began  to  spin  as  quick  as  lightning. 

And  so  the  knocks  went  on,  and  the  call  was  heard,  and 
the  witches  entered,  until  at  last  twelve  women  sat  round 
the  fire — the  first  with  one  horn,  the  last  with  twelve 
horns. 

And  they  carded  the  thread,  and  turned  their  spinning- 
wheels,  and  wound  and  wove. 

All  singing  together  an  ancient  rhyme,  but  no  word  did 
they  speak  to  the  mistress  of  the  house.  Strange  to  hear, 
and  frightful  to  look  upon,  were  these  twelve  women,  with 
*  Ancient  Legends  of  Ireland. 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

their  horns  and  their  wheels  ;  and  the  mistress  felt  near 
to  death,  and  she  tried  to  rise  that  she  might  call  for  help, 
but  she  could  not  move,  nor  could  she  utter  a  word  or  a 
cry,  for  the  spell  of  the  witches  Avas  upon  her. 

Then  one  of  them  called  to  her  in  Irish,  and  said— 

"  Rise,  woman,  and  make  us  a  cake."  Then  the  mistress 
searched  for  a  vessel  to  bring  water  from  the  well  that  she 
might  mix  the  meal  and  make  the  cake,  but  she  could  find 
none. 

And  they  said  to  her,  "  Take  a  sieve  and  bring  water 
in  it." 

And  she  took  the  sieve  and  went  to  the  well ;  but  the 
water  poured  from  it,  and  she  could  fetch  none  for  the 
cake,  and  she  sat  down  by  the  well  and  wept. 

Then  a  voice  came  by  her  and  said,  "  Take  yellow  clay 
and  moss,  and  bind  them  together,  and  plaster  the  sieve 
so  that  it  will  hold." 

This  she  did,  and  the  sieve  held  the  water  for  the  cake ; 
and  the  voice  said  again— 

"  Return,  and  Avheii  thou  comest  to  the  north  angle  of 
the  house,  cry  aloud  three  times  and  say,  «  The  mountain 
of  the  Fenian  women  and  the  sky  over  it  is  all  on  fire.' " 

And  she  did  so. 

When  the  witches  inside  heard  the  call,  a  great  and 
terrible  cry  broke  from  their  lips,  and  they  rushed  forth 
with  wild  lamentations  and  shrieks,  and  fled  away  to 
Slievenamon,*  where  was  their  chief  abode.  But  the 
Spirit  of  the  Well  bade  the  mistress  of  the  house  to  enter 
and  prepare  her  home  against  the  enchantments  of  the 
witches  if  they  returned  again. 

And  first,  to  break  their  spells,  she  sprinkled  the  water 
in  which  she  had  washed  her  child's  feet  (the  feet- water) 
outside  the  door  on  the  threshold  ;  secondly,  she  took  the 
cake  which  the  witches  had  made  in  her  absence  of  meal 
mixed  with  the  blood  drawn  from  the  sleeping  family, 
and  she  broke  the  cake  in  bits,  and  placed  a  bit  in  the 

• 
*  Slidbh-na-mban — i.e.,  mountains  of  the  women. 


THE  HORNED   WOMEN. 

month  of  each  sleeper,  and  they  were  ivstored ;  and  she 
took  the  cloth  they  had  woven  and  placed  it  half  in  and 
halt' out  of  the  chest  with  the  padlock;  and  lastly,  she 
secured  the  door  with  a  great  crossbeam  fastened  in  the 
jambs,  so  that  they  could  not  enter,  and  having  done 
these  tilings  she  waited. 

Not  long  were  the  witches  in  coining  back,  and  they 
raged  and  called  for  vengeance. 

'•Open  !  open!"  they  screamed,  "open,  feet-water!  " 

'•  I  cannot,"  said  the  feet- water,  "I  am  scattered  on  the 
ground,  and  my  path  is  down  to  the  Lough." 

'•  Open,  open,  wood  and  trees  and  beam!"  they  cried 
to  the  door. 

I  cannot,"  said  the  door,  "for  the  beam  is  fixed  in  the 
jambs  and  I  have  no  power  to  move." 

"Open,  open,  cake  that  we  have  made  and  mingled  with 
the  blood  !  "  they  cried  again. 

"I  cannot,"  said  the  cake,  u  for  I  am  broken  and 
bruised,  and  my  blood  is  on  the  lips  of  the  sleeping 
children." 

Then  the  witches  rushed  through  the  air  witli  great 
cries,  and  tied  back  to  Slivenamon,  uttering  strange  curses 
on  the  Spirit  of  the  Well,  who  had  wished  their  ruin  ; 
but  the  woman  and  the  house  were  left  in  peace,  and  a 
mantle  dropped  by  one  of  the  witches  in  her  flight  was 
kept  hung  up  by  the  mistress  as  a  sign  of  the  night's 
awful  contest;  and  this  mantle  was  in  possession  of  the 
same  family  from  generation  to  generation  for  five  hun 
dred  years  after. 


g36  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


THE  WITCHES'  EXCURSION* 

PATRICK    KENNEDY. 

SHEMUS  RUA  f  (Red  James)  awakened  from  his  sleep 
one  night  by  noises  in  his  kitchen.  Stealing  to  the  door, 
he  saw  half-a-dozen  old  women  sitting  round  the  fire, 
jesting  and  laughing,  his  old  housekeeper,  Madge,  quite 
frisky  and  gay,  helping  her  sister  cronies  to  cheering 
glasses  of  punch.  He  began  to  admire  the  impudence  and 
imprudence  of  Madge,  displayed  in  the  invitation  and  the 
riot,  but  recollected  on  the  instant  her  officiousness  in  urg 
ing  him  to  take  a  comfortable  posset,  which  she  had  brought 
to  his  bedside  just  before  he  fell  asleep.  Hail  he  drunk  it, 
he  would  have  been  just  now  deaf  to  the  witches'  glee. 
He  heard  and  saw  them  drink  his  health  in  such  a  mock 
ing  style  as  nearly  to  tempt  him  to  charge  them,  besom 
in  hand,  but  he  restrained  himself. 

The  jug  being  emptied,  one  of  them  cried  out,  "  Is  it 
time  to  be  gone  ?  "  and  at  the  same  moment,  putting  on  a 
red  cap,  she  added — 

"  By  yarrow  and  rue, 
And  my  red  cap  too, 
Hie  over  to  England." 

Making  use  of  a  twig  which  she  held  in  her  hand  as  a 
steed,  she  gracefully  soared  up  the  chimney,  and  was 
rapidly  followed  by  the  rest.  But  when  it  came  to  the 
housekeeper,  Shemus  interposed.  "  By  your  leave, 
ma'am,"  said  he,  snatching  twig  and  cap.  "  Ah,  you 
desateful  ould  crocodile !  If  I  find  you  here  on  my  re 
turn,  there'll  be  wigs  on  the  green— 

*  Fictions  of  the  Irish  Celts. 

f  Irish,  Seumus  Ruadh.  The  Celtic  vocal  organs  are  unable  to 
pronounce  the  letter  j,  hence  they  make  Shon  or  Shawn  of  John, 
or  Sham  us  of  James,  etc. 


THE  WITCHES'  EXCURSION.  237 

'  By  yarrow  and  rue, 
And  my  red  cap  too, 
Hie  over  to  England.'  " 

The  words  were  not  out  of  his  mouth  when  he  was  soar 
ing  a  hove*  the  ridge  polo,  and  swiftly  plowing  the  air. 
lie  was  careful  to  speak  no  word  (being  some  what  con 
versant  with  witch-lore),  as  the  result  would  lie  a  tumble, 
and  the  immediate  return  of  the  expedition. 

In  a  very  short  time  they  had  crossed  the  Wicklow 
hills,  the  Irish  Sea,  and  the  Welsh  mountains,  and  were 
charging,  at  whirlwind  speed,  the  hall  door  of  a  castle. 
Shemns,  only  for  the  company  in  which  he  found  himself, 
would  have  cried  out  for  pardon,  expecting  to  be  a  niinn- 
)n<l  against  the  hard  oak  door  in  a  moment  ;  but.  all  be 
wildered,  he  found  himself  passing  through  the  keyhole, 
along  a  passage,  down  a  Might  of  steps,  and  through  a 
cellar-door  key-hole  before  he  could  form  any  clear  idea 
of  his  situation. 

Waking  to  the  full  consciousness  of  his  position,  he 
found  himself  sitting  on  a  stillion,  plenty  of  lights  glim 
mering  round,  and  he  and  his  companions,  with  full 
tumblers  of  frothing  wine  in  hand,  hobnobbing  and 
drinking  healths  as  jovially  and  recklessly  as  if  the  liquor 
was  honestly  come  by,  and  they  were  sitting  in  A//r/////x',s' 
own  kitchen.  The  red  birredh*  had  assimilated  S/,t  mn^ft 
nature  for  the  time  being  to  that  of  his  unholy  companions. 
The  heady  liquors  soon  got  into  their  brains,  and  a  period 
of  unconsciousness  succeeded  the  ecstasy,  the  headache, 
the  turning  round  of  the  barrels,  and  the  "scattered 
sight"  of  Poor  Shemns.  lie  woke  up  under  the  impres 
sion  of  being  roughly  seized  and  shaken,  and  dragged 
upstairs,  and  subjected  to  a  disagreeable  examination  by 
the  lord  of  the  castle,  in  his  state  parlor.  There  was 
much  derision  among  the  whole  company,  gentle  and 
simple,  on  hearing  Shemus's  explanation,  and,  as  the 
thing  occurred  in  the  dark  ages,  the  unlucky  Leinster 

*  Ir. ,  Birreud—i.  e.  a  cap. 


238  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

mail  was  sentenced  to  ho  hung  as  soon  as  the  gallows 
could  he  prepared  for  the  occasion. 

The  poor  Ilihernian  vras  in  the  cart  proceeding  on  his 
last  journey,  with  a  lahel  on  his  hack,  and  another  on  his 
breast,  announcing  him  as  the  remorseless  villain  who  for 
the  last  month  had  been  draining  the  casks  in  my  lord's 
vault  every  night.  He  was  surprised  to  hear  himself 
addressed  by  his  name,  and  in  his  native  tongue,  by  an 
old  woman  in  the  crowd.  "  Acli,  Shemus,  alanna !  is  it 
going  to  die  you  are  in  a  strange  place  without  your 
cappeen  cF yarrag  ?  "  *  These  words  infused  hope  and 
courage  into  the  poor  victim's  heart.  lie  turned  to  the 
lord  and  humbly  asked  leave  to  die  in  his  red  cap,  which 
he  supposed  had  dropped  from  his  head  in  the  vault.  A 
servant  was  sent  for  the  headpiece,  and  Shemus  felt 
lively  hope  warming  his  heart  while  placing  it  on  his 
head.  On  the  platform  he  was  graciously  allowed  to  ad 
dress  the  spectators,  which  he  proceeded  to  do  in  the 
usual  formula  composed  for  the  benefit  of  flying  stationers 
— "  Good  people  all,  a  warning  take  by  me ;  "  but  when 
he  had  finished  the  line,  "My  parents  reared  me  ten 
derly,"  he  unexpectedly  added — "By  yarrow  and  rue," 
etc.,  and  the  disappointed  spectators  saw  him  shoot  up  ob 
liquely  through  the  air  in  the  style  of  a  sky-rocket  that 
had  missed  its  aim.  It  is  said  that  the  lord  took  the 
circumstance  much  to  heart,  and  never  afterwards  hung  a 
man  for  twenty-four  hours  after  his  offense. 

*  Irish,  caipin  dearg — i.  e.,  red  cap. 


THK  CONFESSIONS  <>F  TOM 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  BOURNE. 

T.  CKOFTOX  ( 'KORKU. 

TOM  RoruKK  lives  in  a  low,  long  farm-house,  resem 
bling  in  outward  appearance  a  large  barn,  placed  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill,  just  where  the  new  road  strikes  off 
from  the  old  one,  leading  from  the  town  of  Kilworth  to 
that  of  Lismore.  lie  is  of  a  class  of  persons  who  are 
a  sort  of  black  swans  in  Ireland  :  he  is  a  wealthy  farmer. 
Toiifs  father  had,  in  the  good  old  times,  when  a  hundred 
pounds  were  no  inconsiderable  treasure,  either  to  lend 
or  spend,  accommodated  his  landlord  with  that  sum, 
at  interest  ;  and  obtained  as  a  return  for  his  civility  a 
long  lease,  about  half-a-do/.en  times  more  valuable  than 
the  loan  which  procured  it.  The  old  man  died  worth 
several  hundred  pounds,  the  greater  part  of  which  with 
his  farm,  he  bequeathed  to  his  son  Tom.  But  besides  all 
this,  T.im  received  from  his  father,  upon  his  death-bed, 
another  gift,  far  more  valuable  than  worldly  riches,  greatly 
as  he  prized  and  is  still  known  to  pri/e  them.  He  \vas 
invested  with  the  privilege,  enjoyed  by  few  of  tin*  sons 
of  men,  of  communicating  with  those  mysterious  beings 
i-alled  u  the  good  people." 

Tom  Bonrke  is  a  little,  stout,  healthy,  active  man, 
about  fifty-live  years  of  age.  His  hair  is  perfectly  white, 
short  and  bushy  behind,  but  rising  in  front  erect  and 
thick  above  his  forehead,  like  a  new  clothes-brush.  His 
eyes  are  of  that  kind  which  I  have  often  observed  with  per 
sons  of  a  quick,  but  limited  intellect — they  are  small,  gray, 
and  lively.  The  large  and  projecting  eyebrows  under,  or 
rather  within,  which  they  twinkle,  give  them  an  expres 
sion  of  shrewdness  and  intelligence,  if  not  of  cunning. 
And  this  is  very  much  the  character  of  the  man.  Tf  you 
want  to  make  a  bargain  with  Tom  Bourke  you  must  act 


240  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

as  if  you  were  a  general  besieging  a  town,  and  make  your 
advances  a  long  time  before  you  can  hope  to  obtain  pos 
session  ;  if  you  march  up  boldly,  and  tell  him  at  once 
your  object,  you  are  for  the  most  part  sure  to  have  the 
gates  closed  in  your  teeth.  Tom  does  not  wish  to  part 
with  what  you  wish  to  obtain ;  or  another  person  has 
been  speaking  to  him  for  the  whole  of  the  last  week. 
Or,  it  may  be,  your  proposal  seems  to  meet  the  most 
favorable  reception.  "  Very  well,  sir  ;  "  "  That's  true, 
sir  ;  "  "  I'm  very  thankful  to  your  honor,"  and  other  ex 
pressions  of  kindness  and  confidence  greet  you  in  reply 
to  every  sentence ;  and  you  part  from  him  wondering 
how  he  can  have  obtained  the  character  which  he  univer 
sally  bears,  of  being  a  man  whom  no  one  can  make  any 
thing  of  in  a  bargain.  But-  when  you  next  meet  him  the 
nattering  illusion  is  dissolved  :  you  find  you  are  a  great 
deal  further  from  your  object  than  you  were  when  you 
thought  you  had  almost  succeeded ;  his  eye  and  his 
tongue  express  a  total  forgetfulness  of  what  the  mind 
within  never  lost  sight  of  for  an  instant ;  and  you  have 
to  begin  operations  afresh,  with  the  disadvantage  of 
having  put  your  adversary  completely  upon  his  guard. 

Yet,  although  Tom  Bourke  is,  whether  from  super 
natural  revealings,  or  (as  many  will  think  more  probable) 
from  the  tell-truth  experience,  so  distrustful  of  mankind, 
and  so  close  in  his  dealings  with  them,  he  is  no  misan 
thrope.  No  man  loves  better  the  pleasures  of  the  genial 
board.  The  love  of  money,  indeed,  which  is  with  him 
(and  who  will  blame  him  ? )  a  very  ruling  propensity,  and 
the  gratification  which  it  has  received  from  habits  of 
industry,  sustained  throughout  a  pretty  long  and  success 
ful  life,  have  taught  him  the  value  of  sobriety,  during 
those  seasons,  at  least,  when  a  man's  business  requires 
him  to  keep  possession  of  his  senses.  He  has,  therefore, 
a  general  rule,  never  to  get  drunk  but  on  Sundays.  But 
in  order  that  it  should  be  a  general  one  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  he  takes  a  method  which,  according  to  better 
logicians  than  he  is,  always  proves  the  rule.  He  has  many 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  BOURKE.  2-il 

exceptions  ;  among  these,  of  course,  are  the  evenings  of  all 
the  fair  and  market-days  that  happen  in  his  neighborhood; 
so  also  all  the  days  in  which  funerals,  marriages,  and 
christenings  take  plaee  among  his  friends  within  many 
miles  of  him.  As  to  this  last  class  of  exceptions,  it  may 
appear  at  rirst  very  singular,  that  he  is  much  more  punctual 
in  his  attendance  at  the  funerals  than  at  the  baptisms  or 
weddings  of  his  friends.  This  may  l>e  construed  as  an 
instance  of  disinterested  affection  for  departed  worth, 
very  uncommon  is  this  selfish  world.  Hut  1  am  afraid 
that  the  motives  which  lead  Tom  Hourkc  to  pay  more 
court  to  the  dead  than  the  living  are  precisely  those  which 
lead  to  the  opposite,  conduct  in  the  generality  of  mankind 
— a  hope,  of  future  benefit  and  a  fear  of  future  evil. 
For  the  good  people,  who  are  a  race  as  powerful  as  they 
are  capricious,  have  their  favorites  among  those  who  in 
habit  this  world;  often  show  their  affection  by  casing 
the  objects  of  it  from  the  load  of  this  burdensome  life  ; 
and  frequently  reward  or  punish  the  living  according  to 
the  degree  of  reverence  paid  to  the  obsequies  and  the 
memory  of  the  elected  dead. 

Some  may  attribute  to  the  same  cause  the  apparently 
humane  and  charitable  actions  which  Tom,  and  indeed  the 
other  members  of  his  family,  are  known  frequently  to 
perform.  A  beggar  has  seldom  left  their  farm-yard  with 
an  empty  wallet,  or  without  obtaining  a  night's  lodging, 
if  required,  with  a  sufficiency  of  potatoes  and  milk  to  sat 
isfy  even  an  Irish  beggar's  appetite  ;  in  appeasing  which, 
account  must  usually  be  taken  of  the  auxiliary  jaws  of  a 
hungry  dog,  and  of  two  or  three  still  more  hungry  children, 
who  line  themselves,  well  within,  to  atone  for  their  naked 
ness  without.  If  one  of  the  neighboring  poor  be  seized 
with,  a  fever,  Tom  will  often  supply  the  sick  wretch  with 
some  un tenanted  hut  upon  one  of  his  two  large  farms  (for 
he  has  added  one  to  his  patrimony),  or  will  send  his 
laborers  to  construct  a  shed  at  a  hedge-side,  and  supply 
straw  for  a  bed  while  the  disorder  continues.  His  wife, 
remarkable  for  the  largeness  of  her  dairy,  and  the  goodness 
r6 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

of  everything  it  contains,  will  furnish  milk  for  whey  ;  and 
their  good  offices  are  frequently  extended  to  the  family  of 
the  patient,  who  are,  perhaps,  reduced  to  the  extremity  of 
wretchedness,  by  even  the  temporary  suspension  of  a 
father's  or  a  husband's  labor. 

If  much  of  this  arises  from  the  hopes  and  fears  to  which 
I  above  alluded,  I  believe  much  of  it  flows  from  a  mingled 
sense  of  compassion  and  of  duty,  which  is  sometimes  seen 
to  break  from  an  Irish  peasant's  heart,  even  where  it  hap 
pens  to  be  enveloped  in  a  habitual  covering  of  avarice  and 
fraud ;  and  which  I  once  heard  speak  in  terms  not  to  be 
misunderstood :  "  When  we  get  a  deal,  '  tis  only  fair  we 
should  give  back  a  little  of  it." 

It  is  not  easy  to  prevail  on  Tom  to  speak  of  those  good 
people,  with  whom  he  is  said  to  hold  frequent  and  intimate 
communications.  To  the  faithful,  who  believe  in  their 
power,  and  their  occasional  delegation  of  it  to  him,  he 
seldom  refuses,  if  properly  asked,  to  exercise  his  high  pre 
rogative  when  any  unfortunate  being  is  struck  in  his 
neighborhood.  Still  he  will  not  be  Avon  unsucd  ;  he  is 
nt  first  difficult  of  persuasion,  and  must  be  overcome  by 
a  little  gentle  violence.  On  these  occasions  he  is  un 
usually  solemn  and  mysterious,  and  if  one  word  of  reward 
be  mentioned  he  at  once  abandons  the  unhappy  patient, 
such  a  proposition  being  a  direct  insult  to  his  supernatural 
superiors.  It  is  true  that,  as  the  laborer  is  worthy  of  his 
hire,  most  persons  gifted  as  he  is  do  not  scruple  to  receive 
a  token  of  gratitude  from  the  patients  or  their  friends 
<ifi<-r  their  recovery.  It  is  recorded  that  a  very  handsome 
gratuity  Avas  once  given  to  a  female  practitioner  in  this 
occult  science,  Avho  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  not  only 
b< 'cause  she  Avas  a  neighbor  and  a  rival  of  Tom's,  but  from 
the  singularity  of  a  mother  deriving  her  name  from  her 
s«  >n.  Her  son's  name  was  Owen,  and  she  Avas  always  called 
Owen  sa  ranker  (Owen's  mother).  This  person  Avas,  on 
the  occasion  to  which  I  have  alluded,  persuaded  to  give  hrr 
assistance  to  a  young  girl  Avho  had  lost  the  use  of  her  right 
k1.^  ;  Oiren  sa  vauher  found. the  cure  a  difficult  one.  A 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  BOURKE.  043 

journey  of  about  eighteen  miles  was  essential  for  the  pur 
pose,  probably  to  visit  one  of  the  good  people  who  resided 
at  that .distance  ;  and  this  journey  could  only  be  performed 
by  Owen  sa  nawker  traveling  upon  the  back  of  a  white  lien. 
The  visit,  however,  was  accomplished  ;  and  at  a  particular 
hour,  according  to  the  prediction  of  this  extraordinary 
Avoman,  when  the  lien  and  her  rider  were  to  reach  their 
journey's  end,  the  patient  was  seized  witli  an  irresistible 
desire  to  dance,  which  she  gratified  with  the  most  perfect 
freedom  of  the  diseased  leg,  much  to  the  joy  of  her  anxious 
family.  The  gratuity  in  this  ease  was,  as  it  surely  ought, 
to  have  been,  unusually  large,  from  the  difliculty  of  pro 
curing  a  hen  willing  to  go  so  long  a  journey  with  such  a 
rider. 

To  do  Tom  IJourke  justice,  he  is  on  these  occasions,  as 
1  have  heard  from  many  competent  authorities,  perfectly 
disinterested.  Not  many  months  since  he  recovered  a 
young  woman  (the  sister  of  a  tradesman  living  near  him), 
who  had  been  struck  speechless  after  returning  from  a 
funeral,  and  had  continued  so  for  several  days.  He  stead 
fastly  refused  receiving  any  compensation,  saying  that  even 
if  he  had  not  as  much  as  would  buy  him  his  supper,  he 
could  take  nothing  in  this  case,  because  the  girl  had 
offended  at  the  funeral  of  one  of  the  </<><><!  )»  <>i>l<  belonging 
to  his  own  family,  and  though  he  would  do  her  a  kindness, 
he  could  take  none  from  her. 

About  the  time  this  last  remarkable  affair  took  place,  my 
friend  Mr.  Martin,  who  is  a  neighbor  of  Tom's,  had  some 
business  to  transact  with  him,  which  it  was  exceedingly 
difficult  to  bring  to  a  conclusion.  At  last  Mr.  Martin, 
having  tried  all  quiet  means,  had  recourse  to  a  legal  pro 
cess,  which  brought  Tom  to  reason,  and  the  matter  was 
arranged  to  their  mutual  satisfaction,  and  with  pcrfe--!. 
good-humor  between  the  parties.  The  aecommndai  imi 
took  place  after  dinner  at  Mr.  Martin's  house,  and  lie  in 
vited  Tom  to  walk  into  the  parlor  and  take  a  glass  of 
punch,  made  of  some  excellent  poteen,  which  was  on  thr 
table  :  he  had  long  wished  to  draw. out  his  highly-endowed 


214:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

neighbor  on  the  subject  of  his  supernatural  powers,  and 
31  rs.  Martin,  who  was  in  the  room,  was  rather  a  favor 
ite  of  Tom's,  this  seemed  a  good  opportunity. 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Martin,  "that  was  a  curious 
business  of  Molly  Dwyer's,  who  recovered  her  speech  so 
suddenly  the  other  day." 

"  You  may  say  that,  sir,"  replied  Tom  Bourke  ;  "but  I 
had  to  travel  far  for  it;  no  matter  for  that  now.  Your 
health,  ma'am,"  said  he,  turning  to  Mrs.  Martin. 

"  Thank  you,  Tom.  But  I  am  told  you  had  some 
"rouble  once  in  that  way  in  your  own  family,"  said  Mrs. 
Martin. 

"  So  I  had,  ma'am ;  trouble  enough  :  but  you  were  only 
a  child  at  that  time." 

"  Come,  Tom,"  said  the  hospitable  Mr.  Martin,  interrupt 
ing  him,  "take  another  tumbler;"  and  he  then  added, 
"I  wish  you  would  tell  us  something  of  the  manner 
in  which  so  many  of  your  children  died.  I  am  told  they 
dropped  off,  one  after  another,  by  the  same  disorder,  and 
that  your  eldest  son  was  cured  in  a  most  extraordinary 
way,  when  the  physicians  had  given  him  over." 

"  Tis  true  for  you,  sir,"  returned  Tom  ;  "  your  father, 
the  doctor  (God  be  good  to  him,  I  wron't  belie  him  in  his 
grave),  told  me,  when  my  fourth  boy  was  a  week  sick, 
that  himself  and  Dr.  Barry  did  all  that  man  could  do  for 
him  ;  but  they  could  not  keep  him  from  going  after  the 
rest.  Xo  more  they  could,  if  the  people  that  took  away 
t.l  ie  rest  wished  to  take  him  too.  But  they  left  him;  and 
sorry  to  the  heart  I  am  I  did  not  know  before  why  they 
were  taking  my  boys  from  me  ;  if  1  did,  I  would  not  be 
Iffl  trusting  to  two  of  'em  now." 

"And  how  did  you  find  it  out,  Tom?"  inquired  Mr. 
Martin. 

"  Why,  then,  I'll  tell  you,  sir,"  said  Bourke.  "  When 
your  father  said  what  I  told  you,  I  did  not  know  very 
well  what  to  do.  I  walked  down  the  little  bohereen* 

*  Bohereeri,  or  boghreen,  i.  e,,  a  green  lane. 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  BOURKE.  245 

you  know,  sir,  that  goes  to  the  river-side  near  Dick 
Heafy's  ground;  for  'twas  a  lonesome  place,  and  I  wanted 
to  think  of  myself.  I  was  heavy,  sir,  and  my  heart  got  weak 
in  me,  when  I  thought  I  \vas  to  lose  my  little  hoy  ;  and  I 
did  not  well  know  how  to  face  his  mother  with  the  news, 
for  she  doated  down  upon  him.  Besides,  she  never  got 
the  better  of  all  she  cried  at  his  brother's  Iwriu  *  the  week 
before.  As  I  was  going  down  the  /W/rm-y/  I  met  an  old 
bo(_'tttf(//i,  that  used  to  come  about  the  place  once  or  twice 
a  year,  and  used  always  to  sleep  in  our  barn  while  he  staid 
in  the  neighborhood.  So  he  asked  me  how  I  was.  4  Bad 
enough,  Simmons,' f  says  T.  '  Tin  sorry  for  your  trouble,' 
says  he  ;  '  but  you're  a  foolish  man,  Mr.  Boiirke.  Your  son 
would  be  well  enough  if  you  would  only  do  what  you  ought 
with  him.'  c  What  more  can  I  do  with  him,  Simmons?' 
says  I ;  '  the  doctors  give  him  over.'  4  The  doctors  know  no 
more  what  ails  him  than  they  do  what  ails  a  cow  when 
she  stops  her  milk,' says  Shamous  ;  '1  nit  go  to  such  a 
one,'  telling  me  his  name,  '  and  try  what  he'll  say  to  you.  ' ' 

"  And  who  was  that,  Tom?"  asked   Mr.  Martin. 

UI  could  not  tell  you  that,  sir,"  said  Uoiirke,  with  a 
mysterious  look;  " liowsomever,  you  often  saw  him,  and 
he  does  not  live  far  from  this.  lint  I  had  a  trial  of  him 
before  ;  and  if  I  went  to  him  at  first,  maybe  I'd  have  now 
some  of  them  that's  gone,  and  so  Simmons  often  told  me. 
Well,  sir,  I  went  to  this  man,  and  he  came  with  me  to 
the  house.  By  course,  I  did  everything  as  he  bid  me. 
According  to  his  order,  I  took  the  little  boy  out  of  the 
dwelling-house  immediately,  sick  as  he  was,  and  made  a 
bed  for  him  and  myself  in  the  cow-house.  Well,  sir,  I 
lay  down  by  his  side  in  the  bed,  between  two  of  the  cows, 
and  he  fell  asleep.  lie  got  into  a  perspiration,  saving 
your  presence,  as  if  he  was  drawn  through  the  river,  and 
breathed  hard,  with  a  great  impression  on  his  chest,  and 
was  very  bad — very  bad  entirely  through  the  night.  I 
thought  about  twelve  o'clock  he  was  going  at  last,  and  I 
was  just  getting  up  to  go  eall  the  man  I  told  yon  of ;  but 
*  Berrin,  burying.  \  Shamous,  James, 


246  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

there  was  no  occasion.  My  friends  were  getting  the 
better  of  them  that  wanted  to  take  him  away  from  me. 
There  was  nobody  in  the  cow-house  but  the  child  and 
myself.  There  was  only  one  halfpenny  candle  lighting 
it,  and  that  was  stuck  in  the  Avail  at  the  far  end  of  the 
house.  I  had  just  enough  of  light  where  we  were  lying 
to  see  a  person  Avalking  or  standing  near  us  :  and  there 
was  no  more  noise  than  if  it  was  a  churchyard,  except  the 
cows  chewing  the  fodder  in  the  stalls. 

Just  as  I  was  thinking  of  getting  up,  as  I  told  you — I 
won't  belie  my  father,  sir,  he  was  a  good  father  to  me — I 
saw  him  standing  at  the  bedside,  holding  out  his  right 
hand  to  me,  and  leaning  his  other  on  the  stick  he  used  to 
carry  when  he  was  alive,  and  looking  pleasant  and  smil 
ing  at  me,  all  as  if  he  was  telling  me  not  to  be  afeard,  for 
I  would  not  lose  the  child.  '  Is  that  you,  father  ?  '  says 
I.  He  said  nothing.  'If  that's  you,'  says  I  again,  'lor 
the  love  of  them  that  are  gone,  let  me  catch  your  hand.' 
And  so  he  did,  sir ;  and  his  hand  was  as  soft  as  a  child's. 
He  stayed  about  as  long  as  you'd  be  going  from  this  to 
the  gate  below  at  the  end  of  the  avenue,  and  then  went 
away.  In  less  than  a  week  the  child  was  as  well  as  if 
nothing  ever  ailed  him ;  and  there  isn't  to-night  a 
healthier  boy  of  nineteen,  from  this  blessed  house  to  the 
town  of  Ballyporeen,  across  the  Kilworth  mountains." 

"  But  I  think,  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Martin,  "  it  appears  as  if 
you  are  more  indebted  to  your  father  than  to  the  man 
recommended  to  you  by  Shamous  ;  or  do  you  suppose  it 
was  he  who  made  favor  with  your  enemies  among  the 
good  people,  and  that  then  your  father — 

"  I  beg  you  pardon,  sir,"  said  Bourke,  interrupting  him  ; 
"  but  don't  call  them  my  enemies.  'Twould  not  be  wish 
ing  to  me  for  a  good  deal  to  sit  by  when  they  are  called  so. 
No  offense  to  you,  sir.  Here's  wishing  you  a  good  health 
and  long  life." 

"  I  assure  you,"  returned  Mr.  Martin,  "  I  meant  no  of 
fense,  Tom ;  but  was  it  not  as  I  say  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that,  sir,"  said  Bourke ;  "  I'm  bound 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  BOURKE.  2±1 

down,  sir.  Howsoever,  you  may  be  sure  the  man  I  spoke 
of  and  my  father,  and  those  they  know,  settled  it  between 
them." 

There  was  a  pause,  of  which  Mrs.  Martin  took  advan 
tage  to  inquire  of  Tom  whether  something  remarkable  had 
not  happened  about  a  goat  and  a  pair  of  pigeons,  at  the 
time  of  Ins  son's  illness — circumstances  often  mysteriously 
hinted  at  by  Tom. 

"  See  that,  now,"1  said  he,  turning  to  Mr.  .Martin,  "how 
well  she  remembers  it  !  True  for  you,  ma'am.  The  goat 
I  gave1  the  mistress,  your  mother,  when  the  doctors 
ordered  her  goats1  whey?" 

Mrs.  Martin  nodded  assent,  and  Tom  Bourke  continued, 
"Why,  then,  I'll  tell  yon  how  that  was.  The  goat  was  as 
well  as  e'er  goat  ever  was,  for  a  month  after  she  was  sent 
to  Killaan,  to  your  father's.  The  morning  after  the  night 
1  just  told  you  of,  before  the  child  woke,  his  mother  was 
standing  at  the  gap  leading  out  of  the  barn-yard  into  the 
road,  and  she  saw  two  pigeons  Hying  from  the  town  of 
Kilworth  oft'  the  church  down  towards  her.  Well,  they 
never  stopped,  you  see,  till  they  came  to  the  house  on  the 
hill  at  the  other  side  of  the  river,  facing  our  farm.  They 
pitched  upon  the  chimney  of  that  house,  and  after  looking 
about  them  for  a  minute  or  two,  they  new  straight  across 
the  river,  and  stopped  on  the  ridge  of  the  cow-house  where 
the  child  and  I  were  lying.  Do  you  think  they  came 
there  for  nothing,  sir?'' 

"  Certainly  not,  Tom,1'  returned  Mr.  Martin. 

"Well,  the  woman  came  in  to  me,  frightened,  and  told 
me.  She  began  to  cry.  "  Whisht,  yon  fool  ?  '  says  I ;  l  'tis 
all  for  the  better.'  'Twas  true  for  me.  What  do  you 
think,  ma'am  ;  the  goat  that  I  gave  your  mother,  that  was 
seen  feeding  at  sunrise  that  morning  by  Jack  Cronin,  as 
merry  as  a  bee,  dropped  down  dead  without  anybody 
knowing  why,  before  Jack's  face  ;  and  at  that  very  moment 
he  saw  two  pigeons  fly  from  the  top  of  the  house  out  of 
the  town,  toward  Lismore  road.  'Twas  at  the  same  time 
my  woman  saw  them,  as  I  just  told  you." 


2±S  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  Twas  very  strange,  indeed,  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Martin ; 
"  I  wish  you  could  give  us  some  explanation  of  it." 

"  I  wish  I  could,  sir,"  was  Tom  Bourke's  answer ; 
"  but  I'm  bound  down.  I  can't  tell  but  what  I'm  allowed 
to  tell,  any  more  than  a  sentry  is  let  walk  more  than  his 
rounds." 

'*  I  think  you  said  something  of  having  had  some  former 
knowledge  of  the  man  that  assisted  in  the  cure  of  your 
son,"  said  Mr.  Martin. 

"  So  I  had,  sir,"  returned  Bourke.  "  I  had  a  trial  of 
that  mani  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  I  can't  tell 
you  anything  about  that,  sir.  But  would  you  like  to  know 
how  he  got  his  skill?" 

"  Oh  !  very  much,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Martin. 

"  But  you  can  tell  us  his  Christian  name,  that  we  may 
know  him  better  through  the  story,"  added  Mrs.  Martin. 

Tom  Bourke  paused  for  a  minute  to  consider  this  prop 
osition. 

"  Well,  I  believe  that  I  may  tell  you  that,  anyhow ;  his 
name  is  Patrick.  He  was  always  a  smart,  'cute  *  boy,  and 
would  be  a  great  clerk  if  he  stuck  to  it.  The  first  time  I 
knew  him,  sir,  was  at  my  mother's  wake.  I  was  in  great 
trouble,  for  I  did  not  know  where  to  bury  her.  Her 
people  and  my  father's  people — I  mean  their  friends,  sir, 
among  the  good  people — had  the  greatest  battle  that  was 
known  for  many  a  year,  at  Dunman  way  cross,  to  see  to 
whose  churchyard  she'd  be  taken.  They  fought  for  three 
nights,  one  after  another,  without  being  able  to  settle  it. 
The  neighbors  wondered  how  long  I  was  before  I  buried 
my  mother ;  but  I  had  my  reasons,  though  I  could  not 
tell  them  at  that  time.  Well,  sir,  to  make  my  story  short, 
Patrick  came  on  the  fourth  morning  and  told  me  he  sot- 
tied  the  business,  and  that  day  we  buried  her  in  Kilcrum- 
per  churchyard,  with  my  father's  people." 

"  lie  was  a  valuable  friend,  Tom,"  said  Mrs.  Martin, 
with  difficulty  suppressing  a  smile.  "  But  you  were  about 
to  tell  how  he  became  so  skilful." 

*  Cufe,  ficute, 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  BOURKE.  249 

.  "So  I  Avill  and  welcome,"  replied  IJourke.  "  Your 
health,  ma'am.  I'm  drinking  too  much  of  this  punch, 
sir;  but  to  tell  the  truth,  I  never  tasted  the  like  of  it;  it 
goes  down  one's  throat  like  sweet  oil.  But  what  was  I 
going  to  say  ?  Yes — well — Patrick,  many  a  long  year  ago, 
was  coming  home  from  a  bcrr'ui  late  in  the  evening,  and 
walking  by  the  side  of  a  river,  opposite  the  big  inch,* 
near  Ballyhefaan  ford.  lie  had  taken  a  drop,  to  be  sure  ; 
but  he  was  only  a  little  merry,  as  you  may  say,  and  knew 
very  well  what  he  was  doing.  The  moon  was  shining, 
for  it  was  in  the  mouth  of  August,  and  the  river  was  as 
smooth  and  as  bright  as  a  looking-glass.  He  heard  noth 
ing  for  a  long  time  but  the  fall  of  the  water  at  the  mill 
weir  about  a  mile  down  the  river,  and  now  and  then  the 
crying  of  the  lambs  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  All 
at  once  there  was  a  noise  of  a  great  numlier  of  people 
laughing  as  if  they'd  break  their  hearts,  and  of  a  piper 
playing  among  them.  It  came  from  the  inch  at  the  other 
side  of  the  ford,  and  he  saw,  through  the  mist  that  hung 
over  the  river,  a  whole  crowd  of  people  dancing  on  the 
inch.  Patrick  was  as  fond  of  a  dance,  as  he  was  of  a 
glas,;,  and  that's  saying  enough  for  him;  so  he  whipped 
off  his  shoes  and  stockings,  and  away  with  him  across  the 
ford.  After  putting  on  his  shoes  and  stockings  at  the 
other  side  of  the  river  he  walked  over  to  the  crowd,  and 
mixed  with  them  for  some  time  without  being  minded. 
lie  thought,  sir,  that  he'd  show  them  better  dancing  than 
any  of  themselves,  for  he  was  proud  of  his  feet,  sir,  and 
a  good  right  he  had,  for  there  was  not  a  boy  in  the 
same  parish  could  foot  a  double  or  treble  with  him.  But 
pwali !  his  dancing  was  no  more  to  theirs  than  mine 
would  be  to  the  mistress'  there.  They  did  not  seem  as  if 
they  had  a  hone  in  their  bodies,  and  they  kept  it  up  as  if 
nothing  could  tire  them.  Patrick  was  'shamed  within 
himself,  for  he  thought  he  had  not  his  fellow  in  all  the 
country  round ;  and  was  going  away,  when  a  little  old 
man,  that  was  looking  at  the  company  bitterly,  as  if  he 
*  J?iC/i,  lo\v  meadow  "round  near  a  river. 


250  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

did  not  like  what  was  going  on,  came  up  to  him.  'Pat 
rick,'  says  he.  Patrick  started,  for  he  did  not  think  any 
body  there  knew  him.  'Patrick,'  says  he,  'you're  dis 
couraged,  and  no  wonder  for  you.  But  you  have  a  friend 
near  you.  I'm  your  friend,  and  your  father's  friend,  and 
and  I  think  worse  *  of  your  little  ringer  than  I  do  of  all 
that  are  here,  though  they  think  no  one  is  as  good  as 
themselves.  Go  into  the  ring  and  call  for  a  lilt.  Don't 
be  afeard.  I  tell  you  the  best  of  them  did  not  do  it  as 
well  as  you  shall,  if  you  will  do  as  I  bid  you.'  Pat 
rick  felt  something  within  him  as  if  he  ought  not  to 
gainsay  the  old  man.  He  went  into  the  ring,  and  called 
the  piper  to  play  up  the  best  double  he  had.  And  sure 
enough,  all  that  the  others  were  able  for  was  nothing  to 
to  him !  He  bounded  like  an  eel,  now  here  and  now  there, 
as  light  as  a  feather,  although  the  people  could  hear  the 
music  answered  by  his  steps,  that  beat  time  to  every  turn 
of  it,  like  the  left  foot  of  the  piper.  He  first  danced  a 
hornpipe  on  the  ground.  Then  they  got  a  table,  and  he 
danced  a  treble  on  it  that  drew  down  shouts  from  the 
whole  company.  At  last  he  called  for  a  trencher ;  and 
when  they  saw  him,  all  as  if  he  was  spinning  on  it  like 
a  top,  they  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  him.  Some 
praised  him  for  the  best  dancer  that  ever  entered  a  ring ; 
others  hated  him  because  he  was  better  than  themselves ; 
although  they  had  good  right  to  think  themselves  better 
than  him  or  any  other  man  that  ever  went  the  long 
journey." 

"  And  what  was  the  cause  of  his  great  success  ? "  in 
quired  Mr.  Martin. 

"He  could  not  help  it,  sir,"  replied  Tom  Bourke. 
"  They  that  could  make  him  do  more  than  that  made  him 
do  it.  Howsomever,  when  he  had  done,  they  wanted  him 
to  dance  again,  but  he  was  tired,  and  they  could  not 
persuade  him.  At  last  he  got  angry,  and  swore  a  big 
oath,  saving  your  presence,  that  he  would  not  dance  a  step 

*  Worse,  more. 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  ttOURKE.  951 

more  ;  and  the  word  was  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when 
he  found  himself  all  alone,  with  nothing  but  a  white  cow 
grazing  by  his  side/1 

u  Did  he  ever  disc-over  why  he  was  gifted  with  these 
extraordinary  powers  in  the  dance,  Tom  ? "  said  Mr. 
Martin. 

"  Til  tell  yon  that  too,  sir,"  answered  Bourke,  "when  I 
come  to  it.  When  he  went  home,  sir,  he  was  taken  with  a 
shivering,  and  went  to  bed  ;  and  the  next  day  they  found 
lie  had  got  the  fever,  or  something  like  it,  for  he  raved 
like  as  if  he  was  mad.  Hut  they  couldn't  make  out  what 
it  was  he  was  saying,  though  he  talked  constant.  The 
doctors  gave  him  over.  But  it's  little  they  knew  what 
ailed  him.  When  he  was,  as  you  may  say,  about  ten  days 
sick,  and  everybody  thought  lie  was  going,  one  of  the; 
neighbors  came  in  to  him  with  a  man,  a  friend  of  his, 
from  Ballinlacken,  that  was  keeping  with  him  some  time; 
before.  I  can't  tell  you  his  name  either,  only  it  was 
Darby.  The  minute  Darby  saw  Patrick  he  took  a  little, 
bottle,  with  the  juice  of  herbs  in  it,  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
gave  Patrick  a  drink  of  it.  He  did  the  same  every  day 
for  three,  weeks,  and  then  Patrick  was  able  to  walkabout, 
as  stout  and  as  hearty  as  ever  he  was  in  his  life.  But 
he  was  along  time  before  he  came  to  himself;  and  he 
used  to  walk  the  whole  day  sometimes  by  the  ditchside, 
talking  to  himself,  like  as  if  there  was  some  one  along  with 
him.  And  so  there  was,  surely,  or  he  wouldn't  be  the 
man  he  is  to-day.1' 

"  I  suppose  it  was  from  some  such  companion  he  learned 
his  skill,"  said  .Air.  Martin. 

u  You  have  it  all  now,  sir,"  replied  Bourke.  "Darby 
told  him  his  friends  were  satisfied  with  what  he  did  the 
night  of  the  dance  ;  and  though  they  couldn't  hinder  the 
fever,  they'd  bring  him  over  it,  and  teach  him.  And  so 
they  did.  For  yon  see,  all  the  people  he  met  on  the  inch 
that  night  were  friends  of  a  different  faction  ;  only  the 
old  man  that  spoke  to  him,  he  was  a  friend  of  Patrick's 
family,  and  it  went  again  his  heart,  you  see,  that  the 


2r>9  IRISH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

others  were  so  light  and  active1,  and  he  was  hitter  in  him 
self  to  hear  'em  boasting  how  they'd  dance  with  any  set 
in  the  whole  country  round.  So  he  gave  Patrick  the 
gift  that  night,  and  afterwards  gave  him  the  skill  that 
makes  him  the  wonder  of  all  that  know  him.  And  to 
be  sure  it  was  only  learning  he  was  at  that  time  when  he 
was  wandering  in  his  mind  after  the  fever." 

"  I  have  heard  many  strange  stories  about  that  inch  near 
Ballyhefaan  ford,"  said  Mr.  Martin.  "  Tis  a  great  place 
for  the  good  people,  isn't  it,  Tom  ?  " 

"  You  may  say  that,  sir,"  returned  Bourke.  "  I  could 
tell  you  a  great  deal  about  it.  Many  a  time  I  sat  for  as 
good  as  two  hours  by  moonlight,  at  th'  other  side  of  the 
river,  looking  at  'em  playing  goal  as  if  they'd  break  their 
hearts  over  it ;  with  their  coats  and  waistcoats  off,  and 
white  handkerchiefs  on  the  heads  of  one  party,  and  red 
ones  on  th'  other,  just  as  you'd  see  on  a  Sunday  in  Mr. 
Simming's  big  lield.  I  saAv  'em  one  night  play  till  the 
moon  set,  without  one  party  being  able  to  take  the  ball 
from  th'  other.  I'm  sure  they  were  going  to  fight,  only 
'twas  near  morning.  .  I'm  told  your  grandfather,  ma'am, 
used  to  see  'em  there  too,"  said  Bourke,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Martin. 

"  So  I  have  been  told,  Tom,"  replied  Mrs.  Martin.  "  But 
don't  they  say  that  the  churchyard  of  Kilcrumper  is  just 
as  favorite  a  place  with  the  good  people  as  Bally hefaan 
inch?" 

"  Why,  then,  maybe  you  never  heard,  ma'am,  what  hap 
pened  to  Davy  Roche  in  that  same  churchyard,"  said 
Bourke ;  and  turning  to  Mr.  Martin,  added,  "  Twas  a  long 
time  before  he  went  into  your  service,  sir.  He  was  walk 
ing  home,  of  an  evening,  from  the  fair  of  Kilcumber,  a 
little  merry,  to  be  sure,  after  the  day,  and  he  came  up  with 
a  berrin.  So  he  walked  along  with  it,  and  thought  it  very 
queer  that  he  did  not  know  a  mother's  soul  in  the  crowd 
but  one  man,  and  he  was  sure  that  man  was  dead  many 
years  afore.  Howsomever,  he  went  on  with  the  berrin  till 
they  came  to  Kilcrumper  churchyard ;  and,  faith,  he  went 


THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  TOM  BOURKE.  253 

in  and  stayed  with  the  rest,  to  see  the.  corpse  buried.  As 
soon  as  the  grave  was  covered,  what  should  they  do  but 
gather  about  a  piper  thut  <'<>m<'  along  with  'em,  and  full  to 
dancing  as  if  it  was  a  wedding.  Davy  longed  to  be  among 
'em  (for  he  hadn't  a  bad  foot  of  his  own,  that  time,  what 
ever  he  may  now)  ;  but  he  was  loth  to  begin,  because  they 
all  seemed  strange  to  him,  only  the  man  I  told  you  that 
he  thought  was  dead.  Well,  at  last  tins  man  saw  what 
Davy  wanted,  and  came  up  to  him.  4  Davy,'  says  he, 
i  take  out  a  partner,  and  show  what  you  can  do,  but  take 
care  and  don't  offer  to  kiss  her.'  'That  T  won't,'  says 
Davy,  'although  her  lips  were  made  of  honey/  And  with 
that  he  made  his  bow  to  the  jturtii'tt  girl  in  the  ring,  and 
he  and  she  began  to  dance.  'Twas  a  jig  they  danced,  and 
they  did  it  to  tlf  admiration,  do  you  see,  of  all  that  were 
there.  'Twas  all  very  well  till  the  jig  was  over;  but  just 
as  they  had  done,  Davy,  for  he  had  a  drop  in,  and  was 
warm  with  the  dancing,  forgot  himself,  and  kissed  his 
partner,  according  to  custom.  The  smack  was  no  sooner  off 
of  his  lips,  you  see,  than  he  was  left  alone  in  the  churchyard, 
without  a  creature  near  him,  and  all  he  could  see  was  the 
tall  tombstones.  Davy  said  they  seemed  as  if  they  were, 
dam-ing  too,  but  I  suppose  that  was  only  the  wonder  that, 
happened  him,  and  he  being  a  little  in  drink.  IIow- 
somever,  he  found  it  was  a  great  many  hours  later  than  he 
thought  it;  'twas  near  morning  when  he  came  home;  but 
they  couldn't  get  a  word  out  of  him  till  the  next  day, 
when  he  woke  out  of  a  dead  sleep  about  twelve  o'clock'.1' 

When  Tom  had  finished  the  account  of  Davy  I  Jodie 
and  the  berrin,  it  became  quite  evident  that  spirits,  of  some 
sort,  were  working  too  strong  within  him  to  admit  of  his 
telling  many  more  tales  of  the  good  people.  Tom  seemed 
conscious  of  this.  lie  muttered  for  a  few  minutes  broken 
sentences  concerning  churchyards,  river-sides,  lepre 
chauns,  and  dhta  mas/h*  which  were  quite  unintelligible, 
perhaps,  to  himseif,  certainly  to  Mr.  Martin  and  his  lady. 

*  Daoiue  maithe,  i.  e.,  the  good  people. 


254:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

At  length  he  made  a  slight  motion  of  the  head  upwards, 
as  if  he  would  say,  "  I  can  talk  no  more ; "  stretched  his 
arm  on  the  table,  upon  which  he  placed  the  empty  tum 
bler  slowly,  and  with  the  most  knowing  and  cautious  air ; 
and  rising  from  his  chair,  walked,  or  rather  rolled,  to  the 
parlor  door.  Here  he  turned  round  to  face  his  host  and 
hostess ;  but  after  various  ineffectual  attempts  to  bid  them 
good-night,  the  words,  as  they  rose,  being  always  choked 
by  a  violent  hiccup,  while  the  door,  which  he  held  by  the 
handle,  swung  to  and  fro,  carrying  his  unyielding  body 
along  with  it,  he  was  obliged  to  depart  in  silence.  The 
cow-boy,  sent  by  Tom's  wife,  who  knew  well  what  sort  of 
allurement  detained  him  when  he  remained  out  after  a 
certain  hour,  was  in  attendance  to  conduct  his  master 
home.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  returned  without  meet 
ing  any  material  injury,  as  I  know  that  within  the  last 
month  he  was  to  use  his  own  words,  "  as  stout  and  hearty 
a  man  as  any  of  his  age  in  the  county  Cork." 


THE   PUDDING  BEWITCHED. 

WILLIAM    CARLE TOX. 

"  MOLL  ROE  RAFFERTY  was  the  son — daughter  I  mane — of 
ould  Jack  Rafferty,  who  was  remarkable  for  a  habit  he  had 
of  always  wearing  his  head  undher  his  hat ;  but  indeed 
the  same  family  was  a  quare  one,  as  everybody  knew  that 
was  acquainted  wid  them.  It  was  said  of  them — but 
whether  it  was  thrue  or  not  I  won't  undhertake  to  say, 
for  'fraid  I'd  tell  a  lie — that  whenever  they  didn't  wear 
shoes  or  boots  they  always  went  barefooted  ;  but  I  heard 
aftherwards  that  this  was  disputed,  so  rather  than  say 
anything  to  injure  their  character,  I'll  let  that  pass. 
Now,  ould  Jack  Rafferty  had  two  sons,  Paddy  and  Molly 
— but !  what  are  you  all  laughing  at  ? — I  mane  a  son  and 
daughter,  and  it  was  generally  believed  among  the  neigh 
bors  that  they  were  brother  and  sisther,  which  you  know 


THE  PUDDING  BEWITCHED.  25f> 

might  be  thrue  or  it  might  not:  but  Unit's  a  thing  that, 
wid.  the  help  o'  goodness,  we  have  nothing  to  say  to. 
Troth  there  was  many  ugly  things  put  out  on  them  that 
I  don't  wish  to  repate,  such  as  that  neither  Jack  nor  his 
son  Paddy  ever  walked  a  perch  widout  puttin'  one  foot 
afore  the  other  like  a  salmon  ;  an'  I  know  it  was  whis 
pered  nbout,  that  whinever  Moll  Roe  slop',  she  had  an 
out-of-the-way  custom  of  keepin'  her  eyes  shut.  If  she 
did,  however,  for  that  matther  the  loss  was  her  own  ;  for 
sure  we  all  know  that  when  one  comes  to  shut  their  eyes 
they  can't  see  as  far  before  them  as  another. 

u  Moll  Roe  was  a  tine  young  bouncin' girl,  largo  and 
lavish,  wid  a  purty  head  o'  hair  on  her  like  scarlet,  that 
belli1  ono  of  the  raisons  why  she  was  called  ]f<w,  or  red  ; 
her  arms  an'  cheeks  were  much  the  color  of  the  hair,  an' 
her  saddle  nose  was  the  purtiest  thing  of  its  kind  that 
ever  was  on  a  face.  Her  fists — for,  thank  goodness,  she 
was  well  sarved  wid  thorn  too— had  a  strong  simularity  to 
two  tlmmpin'  turnips,  reddened  by  the  sun;  an'  to  keep 
all  right  and  tight,  she  had  a  temper  as  fiery  as  her  head— 
for,  indeed,  it  was  well  known  that  all  the  Rafferties  were 
7/vo'm-hearted.  Ilowandiver,  it  appears  that  (iod  gives 
nothing  in  vain,  and  of  coorse  the  same  fists,  big  and  red 
as  they  were,  if  all  that  is  said  about  them  is  thrue,  were 
not  so  much  given  to  her  for  ornament  as  use.  At  laist, 
takin'  them  in  connection  wid  her  lively  temper,  we  have 
it  upon  good  authority,  that  there  was  no  danger  of  their 
getting  blue-moulded  for  want  of  practice.  She  had  a 
twist,  too  in  one  of  her  eyes  that  was  very  becomin'  in 
its  way,  and  made  her  poor  husband,  when  she  got  him, 
take  it  into  his  head  that  she  could  see  round  a  corner. 
She  found  him  out  in  many  qua  re  things,  widout  doubt ; 
but  whether  it  was  owin'  to  that  or  not,  I  wouldn't  un 
dertake  to  say /br  Afraid  I\l  td?  ft  He. 

"  Well,  begad,  anyhow  it  was  Moll  Roe  that  was  the 
dihy*  It  happened  that  there  was  a  nate  vagabone  in 

*  Perhaps  from  Irish  dilse — i.  e.,  love. 


i>5G  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  neighborhood,  just  as  much  overburdened  wid  beauty 
as  herself,  and  he  was  named  Gusty  Gillespie.  Gusty,  the 
Lord  guard  us,  was  what  they  call  a  black-mouth  Prosby- 
tarian,  and  wouldn't  keep  Christmas-day,  the  blagard,  ex 
cept  what  they  call  '  ould  style.'  Gusty  was  rather  good- 
lookiii'  when  seen  in  the  dark,  as  well  as  Moll  herself ; 
and,  indeed,  it  was  purty  well  known  that — accordin'  as 
talk  went — it  was  in  nightly  meetings  that  they  had  an 
opportunity  of  becomin'  detached  to  one  another.  The 
quensequence  was,  that  in  due  time  both  families  began 
to  talk  very  seriously  as  to  what  was  to  be  done.  Moll's 
brother  Pawdien  O'Rafferty  gave  Gusty  the  best  of  two 
choices.  What  they  were  it's  not  worth  spakin'  about ; 
but  at  any  rate  one  of  them  was  a  poser,  an'  as  Gusty 
knew  his  man,  he  soon  came  to  his  senses.  Accordianly 
everything  was  deranged  for  their  marriage,  and  it 
was  appointed  that  they  should  be  spliced  by  the  Rev. 
Samuel  M'Shuttle,  the  Prosbytarian  parson,  on  the  follow 
ing  Sunday. 

"  Now  this  was  the  first  marriage  that  had  happened  for 
a  long  time  in  the  neighborhood  betune  a  black-mouth  an' 
a  Catholic,  an'  of  coorse  there  was  strong  objections  on  both 
sides  against  it ;  an'  begad,  only  for  one  thing,  it  would  never 
'a  tuck  place  at  all.  At  any  rate,  faix,  there  was  one  of  the 
bride's  uncles,  ould  Harry  Connolly,  a  fairy-man,  who  could 
cure  all  complaints  wid  a  secret  he  had,  and  as  he  didn't 
wish  to  see  his  niece  married  upon  sich  a  fellow,  he  fought 
bittherly  against  the  match.  All  Moll's  friends,  however, 
stood  up  for  the  marriage  barrin'  him,  an'  of  coorse  the 
Sunday  was  appointed,  as  I  said,  that  they  were  to  be 
dove-tailed  together. 

"  Well,  the  day  arrived,  and  Moll,  as  became  her,  went 
to  mass,  and  Gusty  to  meeting,  afther  which  they  were  to 
join  one  another  in  Jack  Rafferty's,  where  the  priest, 
Father  M'Sorley,  was  to  slip  up  afther  mass  to  take  his 
dinner  wid  them,  and  to  keep  Misther  M'Shuttle,  who  was 
to  marry  them,  company.  Nobody  remained  at  home  but 
ould  Jack  Rafferty  an'  his  wife,  who  stopped  to  dress 


THE  PUDDING  BEWITCHED.  »r>7 

the  dinner,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  it  was  to  IK:  a  great  let- 
out  entirely.  Maybe,  if  all  \vas  known,  too,  that  Father 
M'Sorley  was  to  give  them  a  east  of  his  oflice  over  an' 
above  the  miuisther,  in  regard  that  Moll's  friends  were 
not  altogether  satisfied  at  the  kind  of  marriage  whieh 
M'Shuttle  could  give  them.  The  sorrow  may  care  about 
that—  splice  here— splice  there — all  I  can  say  is,  that 
when  Mrs.  Raft'erty  was  goin'  to  tie  up  a  big  bag  pudden, 
in  walks  Harry  Connolly,  the  fairy-man,  in  a  rage,  and 
shouts  out, — k  Blood  and  blunderbushes,  what  are  ye/, 
hen;  for?' 

""Arrah  why,  Harry  ?     Why,  avick?' 

"'Why  the  sun's  in  the  suds  and  the  moon  in  the  high 
1  loricks  :  t  he  re's  a  dipstick  comhf  an,  an'  there  you're  both 
as  unconsarned  as  if  it  was  about  to  rain  mether.  (Jo  out 
and  cross  yourselves  three  times  in  the  name  if  the  four 
Mandromarvins,  for  as  prophecy  says  :  —  Fill  the  pot,  Kddy, 
supernaculum — a  bla/ing  star's  a  rare  spectaculum.  (Jo 
out  both  of  you  and  look  at  the  sun,  I  say,  an"  ye'll  set; 
the  condition  he's  in  off  ! ' 

"  Tx'gad,  sure  enough,  .lack  gave  a  bounce  to  the  door, 
and  his  wife  leaped  like  a  two-year-ould,  till  they  were 
both  got  on  a  stile  beside  the  house  to  see  what  was  wrong 
in  the  sky. 

"'Arrah,  what  is  it,  .lack,'  said  she;  'can  you  see  any 
thing?  ' 

"'No,'  says  he,  '  sorra  the  full  o' my  eye  of  anything 
I  can  spy,  barrin'  the  sun  himself,  that's  not  visible  in 
regard  of  the  clouds.  (Jod  guard  us!  I  doubt  there's 
something  to  happen.' 

"'If  there  wasn't,  Jack,  what  'ud  put  Harry,  thai 
knows  so  much,  in  the  state  he's  in  ?  ' 

"' I  doubt  it's  this  marriage,'  said  Jack:  '  betune  our 
selves,  it's  not  over  an'  above  religious  for  Moll  to  marry 

a  black-mouth,  an' only  for ;  but  it  can't  he  helped 

now,  though  you  see  not  a  taste  o'  the  sun  is  willin'  to 
show  his  face  upon  it.' 

" '  As  to  that,'  says  the  wife,  winkin'  wid  both  her  eyes, 


LV,S  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

'  if  Gusty's  satisfied  wid  Moll,  it's  enough.  I  know  who'll 
carry  the  whip  hand,  anyhow ;  but  in  the  manetime  let 
us  ax  Harry  'ithin  what  ails  the  sun.' 

"  Well,  they  accordianly  went  in  an'  put  the  question  to 
him : 

" '  Harry,  what's  wrong,  ahagur  ?  What  is  it  now,  for 
if  anybody  alive  knows,  'tis  yourself  ?  " 

"  '  Ah  ! '  said  Harry,  screwin'  his  mouth  wid  a  kind  of 
a  dliry  smile,  'the  sun  has  a  hard  twist  o'  the  cholic  ;  but 
never  mind  that,  I  tell  you  you'll  have  a  merrier  weddin' 
than  you  think,  that's  all ; '  and  havin'  said  this,  he  put 
on  his  hat  and  left  the  house. 

"  Now,  Harry's  answer  relieved  them  very  much,  and 
so,  afther  calling  to  him  to  be  back  for  the  dinner,  Jack 
sat  down  to  take  a  shough  o'  the  pipe,  arid  the  wife  lost 
no  time  in  tying  up  the  pudden  and  puttin'  it  in  the  pot 
to  be  boiled. 

"In  this  way  things  went  on  well  enough  for  a  while, 
Jack  smokin'  away,  an'  the  wife  cookin'  and  dhressin'  at 
the  rate  of  a  hunt.  At  last,  Jack,  while  sittin',  as  T  said, 
contentedly  at  the  fire,  thought  he  could  persave  an  odd 
dancin'  kind  of  motion  in  the  pot  that  puzzled  him  a  good 
deal. 

"'Katty,'  said  he,  'what  the  dickens  is  in  this  pot  on 
the  fire  ?  " 

" '  Nerra  thing  but  the  big  pudden.  Why  do  you  ax  ?  ' 
says  she. 

" '  Why,'  said  he,  « if  ever  a  pot  tuck  it  into  its  head  to 
dance  a  jig,  and  this  did.  Thundher  and  sparbles,  look 
at  it ! ' 

"  Begad,  it  was  thrue  enough ;  there  was  the  pot  bobbin' 
up  an'  down  and  from  side  to  side,  jiggin'  it  away  as  merry 
as  a  grig ;  an'  it  was  quite  aisy  to  see  that  it  wasn't  the 
pot  itself,  but  what  was  inside  of  it,  that  brought  about 
the  hornpipe. 

"  '  Be  the  hole  o'  my  coat,'  shouted  Jack,  '  there's  some 
thing  alive  in  it,  or  it  would  never  cut  sich  capers  ! ' 

"'Be   gorra,   there   is,  Jack;  something  sthrange  en- 


THE  PUDDING  BEWITCHED.  ^5<) 

tirely  has  got  into  it.  Wirra,  man  alive,  what's  to  be 
done  ? ' 

"  .list  as  she  spoke,  the  pot  seemed  to  cut  the  buckle 
in  prime  style,  and  afther  a  spring  that  'ud  shame  a  dan- 
cin'-masther,  off  flew  the  lid,  and  out  bounced  the  pud- 
den  itself,  hoppin',  as  nimble  as  a  pea  on  a  drum-head, 
about  the  floor.  Jack  blessed  himself,  and  Katty  crossed 
herself.  Jack  shouted,  and  Katty  screamed.*  'In  the 
name  of  goodness,  keep  your  distance  ;  no  one  here  in 
jured  you  ! ' 

"The  pudden,  however,  made  a  set  at  him,  and  Jark 
lepped  first  on  a  chair  and  then  on  the  kitchen  table  to 
avoid  it.  It  then  danced-to wards  Kitty,  who  was  now 
repating'  her  prayers  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  while  the 
cunnin'  thief  of  a  pudden  washoppin'  and  jiggin'  it  round 
her,  as  if  it  was  amused  at  her  distress. 

"'If  I  could  get  the  pitchfork,' '  said  Jack, 'I'd  dale 
wid  it — by  goxty  I'd  thry  its  mettle.' 

"  «  No,  no,'  shouted  Katty,  thinkin'  there  was  a  fairy  in  it  ; 
'  let  us  spake  it  fair.  Who  knows  what  harm  it  might  do  '.J 
Aisy  now,'  said  she  to  the  pudden,  'aisy,  dear  ;  don't  harm 
honest  people  that  never  meant  to  offend  you.  It  wasn't  us 
—no,  in  troth,  it  was  oulcl  Harry  Connolly  that  bewitched 
you  ;  pursue  him  if  you  wish,  but  spare  a  woman  like  me  ; 
for,  whisper,  dear,  I'm  not  in  a  condition  to  be  frightened- 
troth  I'm  not. 

"  The  pudden,  bedad,  seemed  to  take  her  at  her  word, 
and  danced  away  from  her  towards  Jack,  who,  like  the 
wife,  belie vin'  there  was  a  fairy  in  it,  an'  that  spakin'  it 
fair  was  the  best  plan,  thought  he  would  give  it  a  soft  word 
as  well  as  her. 

" '  Plase  your  honor,'  said  Jack,  '  she  only  spaiks  the 
truth ;  an,'  upon  my  voracity,  we  both  feels  much  obliged 
to  your  honor  for  your  quietness.  Faith,  it's  quite  clear 
that  if  you  weren't  a  gentlemanly  pudden  all  out,  you'd 
act  otherwise.  Oulcl  Harry,  the  rogue,  is  your  mark  :  he's 
jist  gone  down  the  road  there,  and  if  you  go  fast  you'll 
overtake  him.  Be  me  song,  your  dancin'  masther  did  his 


200  IRISH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

duty,  anyhow.  Thank  your  honor !  God  speed  you,  an' 
may  you  never  meet  wid  a  parson  or  alderman  in  your 
thravels ! ' 

"  Jist  as  Jack  spoke  the  pudden  appeared  to  take  the 
hint,  for  it  quietly  hopped  out,  and  as  the  house  was 
directly  on  the  road- side,  turned  down  towards  the  bridge, 
the  very  way  that  ould  Harry  went.  It  was  very  natural 
of  course,  that  Jack  and  Katty  should  go  out  to  see  how 
it  intended  to  thravel ;  and,  as  the  day  was  Sunday,  it 
was  hut  natural,  too,  that  a  greater  number  of  people  than 
usual  were  passin'  the  road.  This  was  a  fact ;  and  when 
Jack  and  his  wife  were  seen  followin'  the  pudden,  the 
whole  neighborhood  was  soon  up  and  after  it. 

" c  Jack  Rail'erty,  what  is  it  ?  Katty^,  ahagur,  will  you 
tell  us  what  it  manes?' 

" '  Why,'  replied  Katty,  '  it's  my  big  pudden  that's  be 
witched,  an'  it's  now  hot  foot  pursuin' ; '  here  she 

stopped,  not  wishin'  to  mention  her  brother's  name — 
4  nome  one  or  other  that  surely  put  pishrogues  an  it.'  * 

"  This  was  enough ;  Jack,  now  seein'  that  he  had  as 
sistance,  found  his  courage  comin'  back  to  him ;  so  says 
he  to  Katty,  '  Go  home,'  says  he,  « an'  lose  no  time  in 
makin'  another  pudden  as  good,  an'  here's  Paddy  Scanlan's 
wife,  Bridget,  says  she'll  let  you  boil  it  on  her  fire,  as 
you'll  want  our  own  to  dress  the  rest  o'  the  dinner :  and 
Paddy  himself  will  lend  me  a  pitchfork,  for  purshuin  to 
the  morsel  of  that  same  pudden  will  escape  till  I  let  the 
wind  out  of  it,  now  that  I've  the  neighbors  to  back  an' 
support  me,'  says  Jack. 

"  This  was  agreed  to,  and  Katty  went  back  to  prepare  a 
fresh  pudden,  while  Jack  an'  half  the  townland  pursued  the 
other  wid  spades,  graips,  pitchforks,  scythes,  flails,  and  all 
possible  description  of  instruments.  On  the  pudden  went 
however,  at  the  rate  of  about  six  Irish  miles  an  hour,  an' 
such  a  chase  never  was  seen.  Catholics,  Prodestants,  an' 
Prosbytarians,  were  all  afther  it,  armed,  as  I  said,  an'  bad 

*  Put  it  under  fairy  influence, 


THE  PUDDING  BEWITCHED.  201 

end  to  the  thing  but  its  own  activity  could  save  it.  Here 
it  made  a  hop,  and  there  a  prod  was  made  at  it ;  but  off 
it  went,  an'  some  one,  as  eager  to  get  a  slice  at  it  on  the 
other  side,  got  the  prod  instead  of  the  pudden.  Big  Frank 
Farrell,  the  miller  of  Ballyboulteen,  got  a  prod  backwards 
that  brought  a  hullabaloo  out  of  him  you  might  hear  at 
the  other  end  of  the  parish.  One  got  a  slice  of  a  scythe, 
another  a  whack  of  a  flail,  a  third  a  rap  of  a  spade  that 
made  him  look  nine  ways  at  wanst. 

"  '  Where  is  it  goin'  ? '  asked  one.  '  Aly  life  for  you,  it's 
on  it's  way  to  Meeting.  Three  cheers  for  it  if  it  turns  to 
Carntaul.'  '  Prod  the  sowl  out  of  it,  if  it's  a  Prodestan',' 
shouted  the  others;  'if  it  turns  to  the  left,  slice  it  into 
pancakes.  We'll  have  no  Prodestan'  puddeus  here.' 

u  Begad,  by  this  time  the  people  were  on  the  point  of 
beginiiin'  to  have  a  regular  right  about  it,  when,  very  for 
tunately,  it  took  a  short  turn  down  a  little  by-lane  that 
led  towards  the  Alt  thodist  praich in-house,  an'  in  an  instant 
all  parties  were  in  an  uproar  against  it  as  a  Methodist 
pudden.  'It's  a  Wesleyan,'  shouted  several  voices  ;  'an' 
by  tills  an'  by  that,  into  a  Alethodist  chapel  it  won't  put 
a  foot  to-day,  or  we'll  lose  a  fall.  Let  the  wind  out  of  it. 
Come,  boys,  where's  your  pitchforks?' 

kk  The  divle  pnrshuin  to  the  one  of  them,  however,  ever 
could  touch  the  pudden,  an'  jist  when  they  thought  they 
had  it  up  against  the  gavel  of  the  Methodist  chapel,  begad 
it  gave  them  the  slip,  and  hops  over  to  the  left,  clane  into 
the  river,  and  sails  away  before  all  their  eyes  as  light  as 
an  egg-shell. 

"  Now,  it  so  happened  that  a  little  below  this  place,  the 
demesne- wall  of  Colonel  Bragshaw  was  built  *up  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  river  on  each  side  of  its  banks  ;  and  so 
tindhr  there  was  a  stop  put  to  their  pursuit  of  it,  they 
went  home  again,  every  man,  woman,  and  child  of  them, 
puzzled  to  think  what  the  pudden  Avas  at  all,  what  it 
meant,  or  where  it  was  goin' !  Had  Jack  Rafferty  an'  his 
wife  been  willin'  to  let  out  the  opinion  they  held  about 
Harry  Connolly  bewitehm'  it,  there  is  no  doubt  of  it  but 


202  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

poor  Harry  might  be  badly  tratecl  by  the  crowd,  when 
their  blood  was  up.  They  had  sense  enough,  howandiver, 
to  keep  that  to  themselves,  for  Harry  hem'  an'  ould  bache 
lor,  was  a  kind  friend  to  the  Raffertys.  So,  of  coorse, 
there  was  all  kinds  of  talk  about  it — some  guessin'  this, 
and  some  guessin'  that— one  party  say  in'  the  pudden  was 
of  their  side,  another  party  denyin'  it,  an'  insistiii'  it  be 
longed  to  them,  an'  so  on. 

"  In  the  maiietime,  Katty  Raft'erty,  for  'fraid  the  dinner 
might  come  short,  went  home  and  made  another  pud- 
den  much  about  the  same  size  as  the  one  that  had  es 
caped,  and  bringin'  it  over  to  their  next  neighbor,  Paddy 
Scanlaii's,  it  was  put  into  a  pot  and  placed  on  the  fire  to 
boil,  hopin'  that  it  might  be  done  in  time,  espishilly  as 
they  were  to  have  the  ministher,  who  loved  a  Avarm  slice 
of  good  pudden  as  well  as  e'er  a  gintleman  in  Europe. 

"  Anyhow,  the  day  passed  ;  Moll  and  (lusty  were  made 
man  an'  wife,  an'  no  two  could  be  more  lovin'.  Their 
friends  that  had  been  asked  to  the  weddin'  were  saunterin' 
about  in  pleasant  little  groups  till  dinner-time,  chattin'  an' 
laughin' ;  but,  above  all  things,  sthrivin'  to  account  for 
the  figaries  of  the  pudden  ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  its  adven 
tures  had  now  gone  through  the  whole  parish. 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  dinner-time  was  dhrawin'  near,  and 
Paddy  Scanlan  was  sittin'  comfortably  wid  his  wife  at  the 
tire,  the  pudden  boilen  before  their  eyes,  when  in  walks 
Harry  Connolly,  in  a  flutter,  shontin'— - '  I>lood  an'  blunder- 
bushes,  what  are  yez  here  for  ?  ' 

"  '  Arra,  why,  Harry — why,  avick?1  said  Mrs.  Scanlan. 

"Why,'  said  Harry,  *  the  sun's  in  the  suds  air  the  moon 
in  the  high  Horicks  !  Here's  a  dipstick  comiu1  an,  an1 
there  you  sit  as  unconsarned  as  if  it  was  about  to  rain 
mether!  Go  out  both  of  you,  an'  look  at  the  sun,  J  say, 
and  ye'll  see  the  condition  he's  in— off  ! ' 

"'Ay,  but,  Harry,  what's  that  rowled  up  in  the  tail  of 
your  cothamore*  (big  coat)?' 

*  Irish,  cota  mor. 


THE  PUDDING  BEWITCHED.  203 

" c  Out  wid  yez,'  said  Harry,  '  an'  pray  aginst  the  clip- 
stick — the  sky's  fallin' ! ' 

"Begad,  it  was  hard  to  say  whether  Paddy  or  the  wife 
got  out  first,  they  were  so  much  alarmed  by  Harry's  wild 
thin  face  an'  piercin'  eyes ;  so  out  they  went  to  see  what 
was  wondherful  in  the  sky,  an'  kep'  lookin'  an'  lookin"  in 
every  direction,  but  not  a  thing  was  to  be  seen,  barrhf 
the  sun  shinin'  down  wid  great  good-humor,  an'  not  a 
single  cloud  in  the  sky. 

"  Paddy  an'  the  wife  now  came  in  laughin',  to  scould 
Harry,  who,  no  doubt,  was  a  great  wag  in  his  way  when 

he  wished.  'Musha,  bad  scran  to  you,  Harry .' 

They  had  time  to  say  no  more,  howandiver,  for,  as  they 
were  goin'  into  the  door,  they  met  him  eomiif  out  of  it 
wid  a  reek  of  smoke  out  of  his  tail  like  a  lime-kiln. 

4"  Harry,'  shouted  Bridget,  'my  sowl  to  glory,  but  the 
tail  of  your  cothamore's  a  tire — you'll  be  burned.  Don't 
you  see  the  smoke  that's  out  of  it '? ' 

"'Cross  yourselves  three  times,'  said  Harry,  widout 
stoppin',  or  even  lookin' behind  him,  'for,  as  the  prophecy 
says — Fill  the  pot,  Eddy—  They  could  hear  no  more, 

for  Harry  appeared  to  feel  like  a  man  that  carried  some 
thing  a  great  deal  hotter  than  he  wished,  as  anyone  might 
see  by  the  liveliness  of  his  motions,  and  the  quare  faces 
he  was  forced  to  make  as  he  went  along. 

u*  What  the  dickens  is  he  earryin'  in  the  skirts  of  his 
big  coat?  "  asked  Paddy. 

tvkMysowl  to  happiness,  but  maybe  he  has  stole  the 
pudden',  said  Bridget,  "for  it's  known  that  many  a 
sthrange  tiling  he  does.' 

"They  immediately  examined  the  pot,  but  found  that 
the  pudden  was  there  as  safe  as  tuppence,  an'  this  puzzled 
them  the  more,  to  think  what  it  was  he  could  be  earryin' 
about  wid  him  in  the  manner  lie  did.  But  little  they 
knew  what  he  had  done  white  they  were  sky-gaziu  ! 

"  AY>11,  anyhow,  the  day  parsed  and  the  dinner  was 
ready,  an'  no  doubt  bui  a  fine  gatherin"  there  was  to  par 
take  of  it.  The  Projv.lv-tarmn  mini;,tber  m^t  1 V  3I>t?K> 


IRSIH  FAIRY  TALES. 

dist  praicher — a  divilish  stretcher  of  an  appetite  he  had, 
in  throth — on  their  way  to  Jack  Rafferty's,  an'  as  he 
knew  he  could  take  the  liberty,  why  he  insisted  on  his 
dinin'  wid  him ;  for,  afther  all,  begad,  in  thim  times  the 
clargy  of  all  descriptions  lived  upon  the  best  footin' 
among  one  another,  not  all  as  one  as  now — but  no  mat- 
ther.  Well,  they  had  nearly  finished  their  dinner,  when 
Jack  Rafferty  himself  axed  Katty  for  the  pudden  ;  but, 
jist  as  he  spoke,  in  it  came  as  big  as  a  mess-pot. 

"  '  Gintlemen,'  said  he,  '  I  hope  none  of  you  will  refuse 
tastin'  a  bit  of  Katty's  pudden ;  I  don't  mane  the  dancin' 
one  that  tuck  to  its  thravels  to-day,  but  a  good  solid  fellow 
that  she  med  since.' 

" '  To  be  sure  we  won't,'  replied  the  priest ;  *  so,  Jack, 
put  a  thrifle  on  them  three  plates  at  your  right  hand,  and 
send  them  over  here  to  the  clargy,  an'  maybe,'  he  said, 
laughin' — for  he  was  a  droll  good-humored  man — «  may 
be,  Jack,  we  won't  set  you  a  proper  example.' 

"  '  Wid  a  heart  an'  a  half,  yer  reverence  an'  gintlemen ; 
in  throth,  it's  not  a  bad  example  ever  any  of  you  set  us  at 
the  likes,  or  ever  will  set  us,  I'll  go  bail.  An'  sure  I  only 
wish  it  was  betther  fare  I  had  for  you ;  but  we're  humble 
people,  gintlemen,  and  so  you  can't  expect  to  meet  here 
what  you  would  in  higher  places.' 

"  '  Betther  a  male  of  herbs,'  said  the  Methodist  praicher, 

'where  pace  is .'  He  had  time  to  go  no  farther, 

however ;  for  much  to  his  amazement,  the  priest  and 
the  minis ther  started  up  from  the  table  jist  as  he  was 
goiii'  to  swallow  the  first  spoonful  of  the  pudden,  and  be 
fore  you  could  say  Jack  Robinson,  started  away  at  a  lively 
jig  down  the  floor. 

"  At  this  moment  a  neighbor's  son  came  runnin'  in, 
an'  tould  them  that  the  parson  was  comin'  to  see  the  new- 
married  couple,  an'  wish  them  all  happiness ;  an'  the 
words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  when  he  made  his 
appearance.  What  to  think  he  knew  not,  when  he  saw 
the  ministher  footing  it  away  at  the  rate  of  a  weddin\ 
He  had  very  little  time,  however,  to  think ;  for,  before  h§ 


THE  PUDDING  BEWITCHED. 

could  sit  down,  up  starts  the  Methodist  praicher,  and 
clappin'  his  two  lists  in  his  sides  chimes  in  in  great  style 
along  wid  him. 

"  '  Jack  Kaft'erty,'  says  he — and,  by  the  way,  Jack  was 
his  tenant —  '  what  the  dickens  does  all  this  mane  ? '  says 
he  ;  '  I'm  amazed !  " 

" '  The  not  a  particle  o'  me  can  tell  you,'  says  Jack ; 
'but  will  your  reverence  jist  taste  a  morsel  o'  pudden, 
merely  that  the  young  couple  may  boast  that  you  ait  at 
their  weddin';  for  sure  if  you  wouldn't,  who  would?' 

" '  Well,'  says  he,  '  to  gratify  them  I  will ;  so  just  a 
morsel.  But,  Jack,  this  bates  Bannagher,'  says  lie  again, 
puttin'  the  spoonful  o'  pudden  into  his  mouth  ;  'has  there 
been  dhrink  here  ?  ' 

"4Oh,  the  divie  a  -sy»^///,'  says  Jack,  'for  although 
there's  plinty  in  the  house,  faith,  it  appears  the  gintlemen 
wouldn't  wait  for  it.  Unless  they  tuck  it  elsewhere,  I 
can  make  nothin'  of  this.' 

"  He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  the  parson,  who  was 
an  active  man,  cut  a  caper  a  yard  high,  an'  before  you 
could  bless  yourself,  the  three  clargy  were  hard  at  work 
dancin',  as  if  for  a  wager.  Begad,  it  would  be  impossible 
for  me  to  tell  you  the  state  the  whole  meetin'  was  in 
when  they  seen  this.  Some  were  hoarse  wid  laughin' ; 
some  turned  up  their  eyes  wid  wondher ;  many  thought 
them  mad,  an1  others  thought  they  had  turned  up  their 
little  fingers  a  thrine  too  often. 

" '  Be  goxty,  it's  a  burnin'  shame,'  said  one,  '  to  see 
three  black-mouth  clargy  in  sich  a  state  at  this  early 
hour  ! '  '  Thundher  an'  ounze,  what's  over  them  at  all  ?  ' 
says  others;  'why,  one  would  think  they're  bewitched. 
Holy  Moses,  look  at  the  caper  the  Methodis  cuts !  An' 
as  for  the  Recther,  Avho  would  think  he  could  handle  his 
feet  at  such  a  rate  !  Be  this  an'  be  that,  he  cuts  the 
buckle,  and  does  the  threblin'  step  aiquil  to  Paddy  Ilora- 
ghan,  the  dancin'-ifiasther  himself  '?  An'  see  !  Bad  cess 
to  the  morsel  of  the  parson  that's  not  hard  at  Pe<ice 
upon  a  trancher,  an'  it  of  a  Sunday  too  !  Whirroo,  gin- 


200  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

tlemen,  the  fun's  in  yez  afther  all — wliish  !  more  power 
to  yez ! ' 

"  The  sorra's  own  fun  they  had,  an'  no  wondher ;  but 
judge  of  what  they  felt,  when  all  at  once  they  saw  ould 
Jack  IJatt'erty  himself  bouncin'  in  among  them,  and  foot 
ing  it  away  like  the  best  o'  them.  Bedad,  no  play  could 
come  up  to  it,  an'  nothin'  could  be  heard  but  laugh  in', 
si  louts  of  encouragement,  and  clappin'  of  hands  like  mad. 
Now  the  minute  Jack  Rafferty  left  the  chair  where  he 
had  been  earvin'  the  puclden,  ould  Harry  Connolly  comes 
over  and  claps  himself  down  in  his  place,  in  ordher  to 
send  it  round,  of  coorse  ;  an'  he  was  scarcely  sated,  when 
who  should  make  his  appearance  but  Barney  Hartigan, 
the  piper.  Barney,  by  the  way,  had  been  sent  for  early 
in  the  day,  but  bein'  from  home  when  the  message  for 
him  went,  he  couldn't  come  any  sooner. 

" '  Begorra,'  said  Barney,  4  you're  airly  at  the  work, 
gintlemen !  but  what  does  this  mane  ?  But,  divle  may 
care,  yez  shan't  want  the  music  while  there's  a  blast  in 
the  pipes,  anyhow ! '  So  sayin'  he  gave  them  Ji</  Pol- 
tJiogue,  an'  after  that  Kiss  my  Lady^  in  his  best  style. 

"  In  the  manetime  the  fun  went  on  thick  an'  threefold, 
for  it  must  be  remimbered  that  Harry,  the  ould  knave, 
was  at  the  pudden  ;  an'  maybe  he  didn't  sarve  it  about  in 
double  quick  time  too.  The  first  he  helped  was  the 
bride,  and,  before  you  could  say  chopstick,  she  was  at  it 
hard  an'  fast  before  the  Methodist  praicher,  who  gave  a 
jolly  spring  before  her  that  threw  them  into  convulsions. 
Harry  liked  this,  and  made  up  his  mind  soon  to  find 
partners  for  the  rest ;  so  he  accordianly  sent  the  pudden 
about  like  lightnin';  an'  to  made  a  long  story  short, 
barrin'  the  piper  an'  himself,  there  wasn't  a  pair  o'  heels 
in  the  house  but  was  as  busy  at  the  clancin'  as  if  their  lives 
depinded  on  it. 

" '  Barney,'  says  Harry, '  just  taste  a  morsel  o'  this  pud 
den  ;  divle  the  such  a  bully  of  a  pudden  ever  you  ett ; 
here,  your  sowl !  thry  a  snig  of  it — it's  beautiful.' 

"  <  To  be  sure  I  will,' says  Barney.     'I'm  not  the  boy 


THE  PUDDING   BEWITCHED.  Pf>7 

to  refuse  a  good  thing;  but,  Harry,  lie  quick,  for  you 
knmv  my  hands  is  engaged,  an'  it  would  be  a  thousand 
pities  not  to  keep  them  in  inusie,  an1  they  so  \vell  inclined. 
Thank  you,  Harry;  begad  that  is  a  famous  pudden ;  but 
blood  aif  turnips,  what's  this  for?" 

"•The  word  was  seareely  out  of  his  mouth  when  he 
bounced  up,  pipes  mf  all,  an'  dashed  into  the  middle  of 
the  party.  fc  Hurroo,  your  sowls,  let  us  make  a  night  of 
it  !  The  Ballyboulteen  hoys  forever!  Go  it,  your  rever 
ence-  turn  your  partner — heel  an'  toe,  ministher.  Good  ! 
\\ell  done  again-  Whish  !  Hurroo  !  Here's  for  Bally- 
boulteen,  an'  the  sky  over  it  !  " 

l-  Had  luck  to  the  sich  a  set  ever  was  seen  together  in 
this  world,  or  will  again,  I  suppose.  The  worst,  however, 
wasn't  come  yet,  for  jist  as  they  were  in  the  very  heat 
an'  fury  of  the  dance,  what  do  you  think  comes  hoppin' 
in  among  them  but  another  [Hidden,  as  nimble  an'  merry 
as  the  first!  That  was  enough  ;  they  all  had  heard  of— 
the  ministhers  among  the  rest  — an'  most  o'  them  had  seen 
the  other  pudden,  and  knew  that  there  must  be  a  fairy 
in  it,  sure  enough.  \Vell,  as  I  said,  in  it  comes  to  the 
thick  v>'  them  ;  but  the  very  appearance  of  it  was  enough. 
Off  the  three  clargy  danced,  and  off  the  whole  weddiners 
danced  afther  them,  every  one  inakhf  the  best  of  their 
way  home  ;  but  not  a  sowl  of  them  able  to  break  out  of 
the  step,  if  they  were  to  be  hanged  for  it.  Throth  it 
wouldn't  lave  a  laugh  in  you  to  sec  the  parson  dancin' 
down  the  road  on  his  way  home,  and  the  ministher  and 
Methodist  praicher  cttttin'  the  1  (tickle  as  they  went  along 
in  the  opposite  direction.  To  make  short  work  of  it, 
they  all  danced  home  at  last,  wifl  scarce  a  puff  of  wind 
in  them  ;  the  bride  and  bridegroom  danced  away  to  bed  ; 
an'  now,  boys,  come  an'  let  us  dance  the  Horn  IJi<i<i  in 
the  barn  'idout.  But  you  see,  hoys,  before  we  go,  an'  in 
ordher  that  I  may  make  everything  plain,  I  had  as  good 
tell  you  that  Harry,  in  crossing  the  bridge  of  Bally  boul- 
teen,  a  couple  of  miles  below  Squire  Bragshaw's  demesne- 
wall,  saw  the  puddeu  floatin'  down  the  river — the  truth 


268  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

is  he  was  waitin'  for  it ;  but  be  this  as  it  may,  he  took  it 
out,  for  the  wather  had  made  it  as  clane  as  a  new  pin, 
and  tuckin'  it  up  in  the  tail  of  his  big  coat,  contrived,  as 
you  all  guess,  I  suppose,  to  change  it  while  Paddy  Scan- 
Ian  an'  the  wife  were  examinin'  the  sky ;  an'  for  the  other, 
he  contrived  to  bewitch  it  in  the  same  manner,  by  gettin' 
a  fairy  to  go  into  it,  for,  indeed,  it  was  purty  well  known 
that  the  same  Harry  was  hand  an'  glove  wid  the  good 
people.  Others  will  tell  you  that  it  was  half  a  pound  of 
quicksilver  he  put  into  it ;  but  that  doesn't  stand  to  raison. 
At  any  rate,  boys,  I  have  tould  you  the  adventures  of  the 
Mad  Pudden  of  Ballyboulteen ;  but  I  don't  wish  to  tell 
you  many  other  things  about  it  that  happened— ^br,  fraid 
l\l  tell  a  Her  * 

*  Some  will  insist  that  a  fairy-man  or  fairy-woman  lias  the 
power  to  bewitch  a  pudding  by  putting  a  fairy  into  it ;  whilst 
others  maintain  that  a  competent  portion  of  quicksilver  will 
make  it  dance  over  half  the  parish. 


T'YEER-NA-N-OGE. 


[TIIKKK  is  a  country  called  Tir-na-n-Og,  which  means 
the  Country  of  the  Young,  for  age  and  death  have  not 
found  it;  neither  tears  nor  loud  laughter  have  gone  near 
it.  The  shadiest  boskage  covers  it  perpetually.  One 
man  has  gone  there  and  returned.  The  bard,  Oiseii,  who 
wandered  away  on  a  white  horse,  mn\  ing  on  the  surface 
of  the  foam  with  his  fairy  Xianih,  lived  there  three  hun 
dred  years,  and  then  returned  looking  for  his  comrades. 
The  moment  his  foot  touched  the  earth  his  three  hundred 
years  fell  on  him,  and  he  was  bowed  double,  and  his  beard 
swept  the  ground,  lie  described  his  sojourn  in  the  Land 
of  Youth  to  Patrick  before  he  died.  Since  then  many 
have  seen  it  in  many  places  ;  some  in  the  depths  of  lakes, 
and  have  heard  rising  therefrom  a  vague  sound  of  bells; 
more  have  seen  it  far  off  on  the  hori/.on,  as  they  peered 
out  from  the  western  cliffs.  Not  three  years  ago  a  fisher 
man  imagined  that  he  saw  it.  It  never  appears  unless  to 
announce  some  national  trouble. 

There  are  many  kindred  beliefs.  A  Dutch  pilot,  set 
tled  in  Dublin,  told  M.  De  La  Boullage  Le  Cong,  who 
traveled  in  Ireland  in  1614,  that  round  the  poles  were 
many  islands;  some  hard  to  be  approached  because  of  the 
witches  who  inhabit  them  and  destroy  by  storms  those 
who  seek  to  land.  He  had  once,  off  the  coast  of  Green 
land,  in  sixty-one  degrees  of  latitude,  seen  and  approached 
such  an  island  only  to  see  it  vanish.  Sailing  in  an  oppo 
site  direction,  they  met  with  the  same  island,  and  sailing 
near,  were  almost  destroyed  by  a  furious  tempest. 

According  to  many  stories,  Tir-na-n-Og  is  the  favorite 

2G9 


s>70  1 1  MS  1 1  F.UUY  TALKS. 

<1  welling  of  tile  fairies.  Some  say  it  is  triple — the  island 

of  the  living,  the  island  of  victories,  and   an  underwater 
land.] 


THE  LEGEND  OF  O'DOXOGHUE.  * 

T.   CIIOFTOX  CROKK1I. 

Ix  an  age  so  distant  that  the  precise  period  is  unknown, 
a  chieftain  named  O'Donoghue  ruled  over  the  country 
which  surrounds  the  romantic  Lough  Lean,  now  called 
the  Lake  of  Killarney.  Wisdom,  beneficence-,  and  justice 
distinguished  his  reign,  and  the  prosperity  and  happiness 
of  his  subjects  were  their  natural  results.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  as  renowned  for  his  warlike  exploits  as  for  his 
pacific  virtues;  and  as  a  proof  that  his  domestic  adminis 
tration  was  not  the  less  rigorous  because  it  was  mild,  a 
rocky  island  is  pointed  out  to  strangers,  called,  "O'Don- 
oghue's  Prison,"  in  which  this  prince  once  confined  his 
own  son  for  some  act  of  disorder  and  disobedience. 

His  end — for  it  cannot  correctly  be  called  his  death — 
was  singular  and  mysterious.  At  one  of  those  splendid 
feasts  for  which  his  court  was  celebrated,  surrounded  by 
the  most  distinguished  of  his  subjects,  he  was  engaged  in 
a  prophetic  relation  of  the  events  which  were  to  happen 
in  ages  yet  to  come.  His  auditors  listened,  now  wrapt  in 
wonder,  now  fired  with  indignation,  burning  with  shame, 
or  melted  into  sorrow,  as  he  faithfully  detailed  the  hero 
ism,  the  injuries,  the  crimes,  and  the  miseries  of  their  de 
scendants.  In  the  midst  of  his  predictions  he  rose  slowly 
from  his  seat,  advanced  with  a  solemn,  measured,  and 
majestic  tread  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and  walked  for 
ward  composedly  upon  its  unyielding  surface.  When  he 
had  nearly  reached  the  center  he  paused  for  a  moment, 
then,  turning  slowly  round,  looked  toward  his  friends,  and 

*  Fairy  Legends  of  the  SoutJt  of  Ireland. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  O'DONOGHUE.  07  [_ 

waving  his  arms  to  them  with  tlu'  cheerful  air  of  one 
taking  a  short  farewell,  disappeared  from  their  view. 

The  memory  of  the  good  O'Donoghue  has  been  cherished 
by  successive  generations  with  affectionate  reverence  ;  and 
it  is  believed  that  at  sunrise,  on  every  May-day  morning, 
the  anniversary  of  his  departure,  he  revisits  his  ancient 
domains  :  a  favored  few  only  are  in  general  permitted  to 
see  him,  and  this  distinction  is  always  an  omen  of  good 
fortune  to  the  beholders;  when  it  is  granted  to  many  it  is 
a  sure  token  of  an  abundant  harvest, — a  blessing,  the 
want  of  which  during  this  prince's  reign  was  never  felt 
by  his  people. 

Some  years  have1  elapsed  since  the  last  appearance  of 
O'Donoghne.  The  April  of  that  year  had  been  remark 
ably  wild  and  stormy;  but  on  May-morning  the  fury  of 
the  elements  had  altogether  subsided.  The  air  was 
hushed  and  still  ;  and  the  sky,  which  was  reflected  in  the 
serene  lake,  resembled  a  beautiful  but  deceitful  counte 
nance,  whose  smiles,  after  the  most  tempestuous  emotions, 
tempt  the  stranger  to  believe  that  it  belongs  to  a  soul 
which  no  passion  has  ever  rnttied. 

The  first  beams  of  the  rising  sun  were  just  gilding  the 
lofty  summit  of  (ilenaa,  when  the  waters  near  the  eastern 
shore  of  the  lake  became  suddenly  and  violently  agitated, 
though  all  the  rest  of  its  surface  lay  smooth  and  still  as  a 
tomb  of  polished  marble,  the  next  morning  a  foaming  wave 
darted  forward,  and,  like  a  proud  high-crested  war-horse, 
exulting  in  his  strength,  rushed  across  the  lake  toward 
Toomies  mountain.  Behind  this  wave  appeared  a  stately 
warrior  fully  armed,  mounted  upon  a  milk-white  steed; 
liis  snowy  plume  waved  gracefully  from  a  helmet  of 
polished  steel,  and  at  his  back  fluttered  a  light  blue  scarf. 
The  horse,  apparently  exulting  in  his  noble  burden,  sprung 
after  the  wave  along  the  water,  which  bore  him  up  like 
firm  earth,  while  showers  of  spray  that  glittered  brightly 
in  the  morning  sun  were  dashed  up  at  every  bound. 

The  warrior  was  O'Donoghue  ;  he  was  followed  by  num 
berless  youths  and  maidens,  who  moved  lightly  and  un- 


otl'  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

constrained  over  the  watery  plain,  as  the  moonlight  fairies 
glide  through  the  fields  of  air ;  they  were  linked  together 
by  garlands  of  delicious  spring  flowers,  and  they  timed 
their  movements  to  strains  of  enchanting  melody.  When 
O'Donoghue  had  nearly  reached  the  western  side  of  the 
lake,  he  suddenly  turned  his  steed,  and  directed  his  course 
along  the  wood-fringed  shore  of  Glenaa,  preceded  by  the 
huge  wave  that  curled  and  foamed  up  as  high  as  the 
horse's  neck,  whose  fiery  nostrils  snorted  above  it.  The 
long  train  of  attendants  followed  with  playful  deviations 
the  track  of  their  leader,  and  moved  on  with  unabated 
fleetness  to  their  celestial  music,  till  gradually,  as  they 
entered  the  narrow  strait  between  Glenaa  and  Dinis,  they 
became  involved  in  the  mists  which  still  partially  floated 
over  the  lakes,  and  faded  from  the  view  of  the  wondering 
beholders  :  but  the  sound  of  their  music  still  fell  upon 
the  ear,  and  echo,  catching  up  the  harmonious  strains, 
fondly  repeated  and  prolonged  them  in  soft  and  softer 
tones,  till  the  last  faint  repetition  died  away,  and  the 
hearers  awoke  as  from  a  dream  of  bliss. 


RENT-DAY. 

"  OH,  ullagone !  ullagone !  this  is  a  wide  world,  but 
what  will  we  do  in  it,  or  where  will  we  go  ?  "  muttered 
Bill  Doody,  as  he  sat  on  a  rock  by  the  Lake  of  Killarney. 
"  What  will  we  do  ?  To-morrow's  rent-day,  and  Tim  the 
Driver  swears  if  we  don't  pay  our  rent,  he'll  cant  ever 
ha^erth  we  have  ;  and  then,  sure  enough,  there's  Judy 
and  myself,  and  the  poor  grawls*  will  be  turned  out  to 
starve  on  the  high-road,  for  the  never  a  halfpenny  of  rent 
have  I ! — Oh  hone,  that  ever  I  should  live  to  see  this 
day  ! " 

Thus  did  Bill  Doody  bemoan  his  hard  fate,  pouring  his 

*  Children. 


REXT-DAY.  273 

sorrows  to  the  reckless  waves  of  the  most  beautiful  of 
lakes,  which  seemed  to  mock  his  misery  as  they  rejoiced 
beneath  the  cloudless  sky  of  a  May  morning.  That  lake, 
glittering  in  sunshine,  sprinkled  with  fairy  isles  of  rock 
and  verdure,  and  bounded  by  giant  hills  of  ever- varying 
hues,  might,  with  its  magic  beauty,  charm  all  sadness  but 
despair ;  for  alas, 

"  How  ill  the  scene  that  offers  rest 

And  heart  that  cannot   rest  agree  !  '' 

Yet  Bill  Doody  was  not  so  desolate  as  he  supposed  ;  then; 
was  one  listening  to  him  he  little  thought  of,  and  help  was 
at  hand  from  a  quarter  he  could  not  have  expected. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  my  poor  man;'"  said  a 
tall,  portly-looking  gentlman,  at  the  same  time  stepping 
out  of  a  furze-brake.  Now  Hill  was  seated  on  a  rock  that 
commanded  the  view  of  a  large  field.  Nothing  in  the 
field  could  be  concealed  from  him,  except  this  fnr/e-brake, 
Avhich  grew  in  a  hollow  near  the  margin  of  the  lake,  lie 
was,  therefore,  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  gentleman's 
sudden  appearance,  and  began  to  question  whether  the 
personage  before;  him  belonged  to  this  world  or  not.  He, 
however,  soon  mustered  courage  sufficient  to  tell  him 
how  his  crops  had  failed,  how  some  bad  member  had 
charmed  away  his  butter,  and  how  Tim  the  Driver 
threatened  to  turn  him  out  of  the  farm  if  he  didn't  pay 
u])  every  penny  of  the  rent  by  twelve  o'clock  next  day. 

"A  sad  story,  indeed,"  said  the  stranger;  "  but  surely, 
if  you  represented  the  case  to  your  landlord's  agent,  he 
won't  have  the  heart  to  turn  you  out.'' 

"Heart,  your  honor;  where  would  an  agent  get  a 
heart  I1'  exclaimed  Bill.  "I  see  your  honor  does  not 
know  him  ;  besides,  he  has  an  eye  on  the  farm  this  long 
time  for  a  fosterer  of  his  own ;  so  I  expect  no  mercy  at 
all  at  all,  only  to  be  turned  out." 

"Take  this,  my  poor  fellow,  take  this,"  said  the 
stranger,  pouring  a  purse  full  of  gold  into  Bill's  old  hat, 
which  in  his  grief  he  had  flung  on  the  ground.  "  Pay  the 


27-4  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

fellow  your  rent,  but  I'll  take  care  it  shall  do  him  no  good. 
I  remember  the  time  when  things  went  otherwise  in  this 
country,  when  I  would  have  hung  up  such  a  fellow  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye !  " 

These  words  were  lost  upon  Bill,  who  was  insensible  to 
everything  but  the  sight  of  the  gold,  and  before  he  could 
unfix  his  gaze,  and  lift  up  his  head  to  pour  out  his  hundred 
thousand  blessings,  the  stranger  was  gone.  The  bewildered 
peasant  looked  around  in  search  of  his  benefactor,  and  at 
last  he  thought  he  saw  him  riding  on  a  white  horse  a  long 
way  off  on  the  lake. 

"  O'Donoghue,  O'Donoghue  !  "  shouted  Bill ;  "  the  good, 
the  blessed  O'Donoghue  ! "  and  he  ran  capering  like  a 
madman  to  show  Judy  the  gold,  and  to  rejoice  her  heart 
with  the  prospect  of  wealth  and  happiness. 

The  next  day  Bill  proceeded  to  the  agent's  ;  not  sneak- 
ingly,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground,  and  his  knees  bending  under  him  ;  but  bold  and 
upright,  like  a  man  conscious  of  his  independence. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  off  your  hat,  fellow  ?  don't  you 
know  you  are  speaking  to  a  magistrate  ?  "  said  the  agent. 

"I  know  I'm  not  speaking  to  the  king,  sir,"  said  Bill ; 
"  and  I  never  takes  off  my  hat  but  to  them  I  can  respect 
and  love.  The  Eye  that  sees  all  knows  I've  no  right 
either  to  respest  or  love  an  agent !  " 

"You  scoundrel ! "  retorted  the  man  in  office,  biting  his 
lips  with  rage  at  such  an  unusual  and  unexpected  oppo 
sition,  "  I'll  teaeh  you  how  to  be  insolent  again ;  I  have 
the  power,  remember." 

"  To  the  cost  of  the  country,  I  know  you  have,"  said 
Bill,  who  still  remained  with  his  head  as  firmly  covered 
;is  if  he  was  the  Lord  Kingsale  himself. 

"  But,  come,"  said  the  magistrate  ;  "  have  you  got  the 
money  for  me?  this  is  rent-day.  If  there's  one  penny  of 
it  wanting,  or  the  running  gale  that's  due,  prepare  to  turn 
out  before  night,  for  you  shall  not  remain  another  hour 
in  possession." 

».' There  in  your  rent,"  said  Bill,  with  an  unmoved  ex- 


LOUGHLEAGH. 

pression  of  tone  and  countenance;  "you'd  better  count  it, 
and  give  me  a  receipt  in  full  for  the  running  gale  and  all." 

The  agent  gave  a  look  of  amazement  at  the  gold  ;  for 
it  was  gold — real  guineas!  and  not  bits  of  dirty  ragged 
small  notes,  that  are  only  tit  to  light  one's  pipe  with. 
However  willing  the  agent  may  have  been  to  ruin,  as  he 
thought,  the  unfortunate  tenant,  he  took  up  the  gold,  and 
handed  the  receipt  to  Hill,  who  strutted  off  with  it  as 
proud  as  a  eat  of  her  whiskers. 

The  agent  going  to  his  desk  shortly  after,  was  con 
founded  at  beholding  a  heap  of  gingerbread  cakes  instead 
of  the  money  he  had  deposited  there.  He  raved  and 
swore,  but  all  to  no  purpose  ;  the  gold  had  become  ginger 
bread  cakes,  just  marke^like  the  guineas,  with  the  king's 
head  ;  and  Hill  had  the  receipt  in  his  pocket  :  so  he  saw 
there  was  no  use  in  saying  anything  about  the  affair,  as 
lie  would  only  get  laughed  at  for  his  pains. 

From  that  hour  Kill  Doody  grew  rich;  all  his  under 
takings  prospered  :  and  lie  often  blesses  the  day  that  lie 
met  with  O'Donoghue,  the  great  prince  that  lives  down 
under  the  Lake  of  Killarnev. 


LOUGHLEAGH  (LAKE  OF  HEALING).* 

"Do  you  see  that  bit  of  a  lake,"  said  my  companion, 
turning  his  eyes  towards  the  acclivity  that  overhung 
Loughleagh.  "  Troth,  and  as  little  as  you  think  of  it,  and 
as  ugly  as  it  looks  with  its  weeds  and  its  flags,  it  is  1 1n 
most  famous  one  in  all  Ireland.  Young  and  ould,  rich 
and  poor,  far  and  near,  have  come  to  that  lake  to  get 
cured  of  all  kinds  of  scurvy  and  sores.  The  Lord  keep  us 
our  limits  whole  and  sound,  for  it's  a  sorrowful  thing  not 
to  have  the  use  o'  th^m.  Twas  but  last,  week  we  had  a 
great  grand  Frenchman  here;  and,  though  he  came  upon' 

*  Dublin  r/??(7  London  Magazine,  ]8?o. 


276  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

crutches,  faith  he  went  home  sound  as  a  bell ;  and  well 
he  paid  Billy  Reily  for  curing  him." 

"  And,  pray,  how  did  Billy  Reily  cure  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well  enough.  He  took  his  long  pole,  dipped  it 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  and  brought  up  on  the 
top  of  it  as  much  plaster  as  would  do  for  a  thousand 
sores !  " 

"  What  kind  of  plaster?" 

"  What  kind  of  plaster  ?  why,  black  plaster  to  be  sure ; 
for  isn't  the  bottom  of  the  lake  filled  with  a  kind  of  black 
mud  which  cures  all  the  world  ?  " 

"  Then  it  ought  to  be  a  famous  lake  indeed." 

"  Famous,  and  so  it  is,"  replied  my  companion,  "  but  it 
isn't  for  its  cures  neather  that  it  is  famous ;  for,  sure, 
doesn't  all  the  world  know  there  is  a  fine  beautiful  city 
at  the  bottom  of  it,  where  the  good  people  live  just  like 
Christians.  Troth,  it  is  the  truth  I  tell  you  ;  for  SJiemus- 
<i-meidh  saw  it  all  when  h%  followed  his  dun  cow  that 
was  stolen." 

"  Who  stole  her  ?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it: — Shemus  was  a  poor  gos 
soon,  who  lived  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  in  a  cabin  with 
his  ould  mother.  They  lived  by  hook  and  by  crook,  one 
way  and  another,  in  the  best  way  they  could.  They  had 
a  bit  of  ground  that  gave  'em  the  preaty,  and  a  little  dun 
cow  that  gave  'em  the  drop  o'  milk ;  and,  considering 
1  io\v  times  go,  they  weren't  badly  off,  for  Shemus  was  a 
handy  gossoon  to  boot ;  and,  while  minden  the  cow,  cut 
heath  and  made  orooms,  which  his  mother  sould  on  a 
market-day,  and  brought  home  the  bit  o'  tobaccy,  the 
grain  of  salt,  and  other  nic-nackenes,  which  a  poor  body 
can't  well  do  widout.  Once  upon  a  time,  however,  Shemus 
went  farther  than  usual  up  the  mountain,  looken  for  long 
heath,  for  town's-people  don't  like  to  stoop,  and  so  like 
long  handles  to  their  brooms.  The  little  dun  cow  was 
a'most  as  cunning  as  a  Christian  sinner,  and  followed 
Shemus  like  a  lap-dog  everywhere  he'd  go,  so  that  she 
"••  1'ii red  little  or  no  herden,  On  this  day  she  found  nice 


LOUGHLEAGH.  i>77 

picken  on  a  round  spot  as  green  as  a  leek;  and,  as  poor 
Shcmus  was  wearr,  as  a  body  would  lie  on  a  tine  sum 
mer's  day,  he  lay  down  on  the  grass  to  rest  himself,  just 
as  we're  resten  ourselves  on  the  eairn  here.  Begad,  he 
hadn't  long  lain  there,  sure  enough,  when,  what  should 
he  see  lint  whole  loads  of  ganconers  *  dancing  about  the 
place.  Some  o'  them  were  hurlen,  some  kicking  a  foot 
ball,  and  others  leaping  a  kick-step-and-a-lep.  They  were 
so  sonple  and  so  active  that  Shemus  was  highly  delighted 
with  the  sport,  and  a  little  tanned-skinned  chap  in  a  red 
cap  pleased  him  better  than  any  o'  them,  bekase  he  used 
to  tumble  the  other  fellows  like  mushrooms.  At  one 
time  he  kept  the  ball  up  for  as  good  as  half-an-hour,  when 
Shemus  cried  out,  <  Well  done,  my  hurler!'  The  word 
wasn't  well  out  of  his  mouth  when  wimp  went  the  ball 
on  his  eye,  and  flash  went  the  fire.  Poor  Shemus  thought 
he  was  blind,  and  roared  out,  '  Mille  murdhcr  !  '  f  but  the 
only  thing  he  heard  was  a  loud  laugh.  'Cross  o'  Christ 
about  us,1  says  lie  to  himself,  '  what  is  this  for?"  and 
after  rubbing  his  eyes  they  came  to  a  little,  and  he  could 
see  the  sun  and  the  sky,  and,  by-and-by,  he,  could  see 
everything  but  his  cow  and  the  mischievous  ganconers. 
They  wen'  gone  to  their  rath  or  mote;  but  where  was  the 

*  Ir.  gean-canach — i.e.,  love-talker,  a  kind  of  fairy  appearing 
in  lonesome  valleys,  a  ducleen  (tobacco-pipe)  in  his  mouth,  mak 
ing  love  to  milk-maids,  etc,  O'Kearney,  a  Louthman,  deeply 
versed  in  Irish  lore,  writes  of  the  gean-canach  (love-talker)  that 
he  is  "  another  diminutive  being  of  the  same  tribe  as  the  Lep- 
racaun,  but,  unlike  him,  he  personated  love  and  idleness,  and 
always  appeared  with  a  dudeen  in  his  jaw  in  lonesome  valleys- 
and  it  was  his  custom  to  make  love  to  shepherdesses  and  milk 
maids.  It  was  considered  very  unlucky  to  meet  him,  and  who 
ever  was  known  to  have  ruined  his  fortune  by  devotion  to  the 
fair  sex  was  said  to  have  met  a  gean-canacJi.  The  dudeen,  or 
ancient  Irish  tobacco  pipe,  found  in  our  raths,  etc.,  is  still  popu 
larly  called  a  gean-canach^ s  pipe." 

The  word  is  not  to  be  found  in  dictionaries,  nor  does  this  spirit 
appear  to  be  well  known,  if  known  at  all,  in  Connacht.  The 
word  is  pronounced  gdncondgh. 

f  A  thousand  murders, 


278  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

little  dun  cow?  He  looked,  and  he  looked,  and  he  might 
have  looked  from  that  day  to  this,  bekase  she  wasn't  to 
he  found,  and  good  reason  why — the  ganconers  took  her 
away  with  'em. 

"  Shemus-a-sneidh,  however,  didn't  think  so,  hut  ran 
home  to  his  mother. 

"  '  Where  is  the  cow,  Shemus  ?  '  axed  the  ould  woman. 

" « Och,  musha,  bad  luck  to  her,'  said  Shemus,  'I  donna 
where  she  is  ! ' 

"  c  Is  that  an  answer,  you  big  blaggard,  for  the  likes  o' 
you  to  give  your  poor  ould  mother  ? '  said  she. 

" '  Och,  musha,"  said  Shemus,  4  don't  kick  up  saich  a 
bollhous  about  nothing.  The  ould  cow  is  safe  enough, 
I'll  be  bail,  some  place  or  other,  though  I  could  find  her 
if  I  put  my  eyes  upon  kippeens*  and,  speaking  of  eyes, 
faith,  I  had  very  good  luck  o'  my  side,  or  I  had  never  a 
one  to  look  after  her.' 

" '  Why,  what  happened  your  eyes,  agrah  ? '  axed  the 
ould  woman. 

" '  Oh  !  didn't  the  ganconers — the  Lord  save  us  from  all 
hurt  and  harm  ! — drive  their  hurleii  ball  into  them  both  ! 
n nd  sure  I  was  stone  blind  for  an  hour.' 

u  '  And  may  be,'  said  the  mother,  '  the  good  people  took 
our  cow  ? ' 

"  'No,  nor  the  devil  a  one  of  them,'  said  Shemus,  '  for, 
by  the  powers,  that  same  cow  is  as  knowen  as  a  lawyer, 
and  wouldn't  be  such  a  fool  as  to  go  with  the  ganconers 
while  she  could  get  such  grass  as  I  found  for  her  to-day.' 

In  this  way,  continued  my  informant,  they  talked  about 
the  cow  all  that  night,  and  next  mornen  both  o'  them  set 
off  to  look  for  her.  After  searching  every  place,  high  and 
low,  what  should  Shemus  see  sticking  out  of  a  bog-hole 
but  something  very  like  the  horns  of  his  little  beast ! 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother,"  said  he,  "  I've  found  her !  " 

"Where,  alanna?"  axed  the  ould  woman. 

"  In  the  bog-hole,  mother,"  answered  Shemus. 

*  Jr.  cipin — i.e.y  a  stick,  a  fwig. 


LOUGHLEAGH.  07*. 


At  this  the  poor  ould  creathure  set  up  such  u  pu/l«llu6 
that  she  brought  the  seven  parishes  about  lier  ;  and  the 
neighbors  soon  pulled  the  eo\v  out  of  the  bog-hole. 
You'd  swear  it  was  the  same,  and  yet  it  wasn't  as  you 
shall  hear  by-and-by. 

Sheinus  and  his  mother  brought  the  dead  beast  home 
with  them;  and,  after  skinnen  her,  hung  the  meat  up  in 
the  chimney.  The  loss  of  the  drop  o'  milk  was  a  sorrow 
ful  thing,  and  though  they  had  a  good  deal  of  meat,  that 
couldn't  last  always;  besides,  the  whole  parish  /'""///" */ 
upon  them  for  eating  the  flesh  of  a  beast  that  died  with 
out  bleeden.  l>ut  the  pretty  thing  was,  they  couldn't  eat 
the  meat  after  all,  for  when  it  was  boiled  it  was  as  tough 
as  carrion,  and  as  black  as  a  turf.  You  might  as  well 
think  of  sinking  your  teeth  in  an  oak  plank  as  into  a 
piece  of  it,  and  then  you'd  want  to  sit  a  great  piece  from 
the  wall  for  fear  of  knocking  your  head  against  it  when 
pulling  it  through  your  teeth.  At  last  and  at  long  run 
they  were  forced  to  throw  it  to  the  dogs,  but  the  dogs 
wouldn't  smell  to  it,  and  so  it  was  thrown  into  the  ditch, 
where  it  rotted.  This  misfortune  cost  poor  Sheinus  many 
a  salt  tear,  for  he  was  now  obliged  to  work  twice  as 
hard  as  before,  and  be  out  cutten  heath  on  the  mountain 
late  and  early.  One  day  he  was  passing1  by  this  cairn 
with  a  load  of  brooms  on  his  back,  when  what  should  he 
see  but  the  little  dun  cow  and  two  red-headed  fellows 
herding  her. 

•"That's  my  mother's  cow,"  said   Shemus-a-sneidb. 

*;  Xo,  it  is  not,"  said  one  of  the  chaps. 

u  lint  I  say  it  is,"  said  Sheinus,  throwing  the  brooms 
on  the  ground,  and  seizing  the  cow  by  the.  horns.  At 
that  the  red  fellows  drove  her  as  fast  as  they  could  to 
this  steep  place,  and  with  one  leap  she  bounced  over,  with 
Shemus  stuck  fast  to  her  horns.  They  made  only  one 
splash  in  the  lough,  when  the  waters  closed  over  'em,  and 
they  sunk  to  the  bottom.  Just  as  Shemus-a-sneidh 
thought  that  all  was  over  with  him,  he  found  himself  before 
a  most  elegant  palace  built  with  jewels,  and  all  manner  of 


280  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

fine  stones.  Though  his  eyes  were  dazzled  with  the 
splendor  of  the  place,  faith  he  had  gomsh  *  enough  not  to 
let  go  his  holt,  but  in  spite  of  all  they  could  do,  he  held 
his  little  cow  by  the  horns.  He  was  axed  into  the  place, 
but  wouldn't  go. 

The  hubbub  at  last  grew  so  great  that  the  door  flew 
open,  and  out  walked  a  hundred  ladies  and  gentlemen,  as 
fine  as  any  in  the  land.  < 

"  What  does  this  boy  want  ?  "  axed  one  o'  them,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  masther. 

"  I  want  my  mother's  cow,"  said  Shemus. 

"  That's  not  your  mother's  cow,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Bethershin  !  "  |  cried  Shemus-a-sneid ;  "  don't  I  know 
her  as  well  as  I  know  my  right  hand  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  lose  her  ? "  axed  the  gentleman. 
And  so  Shemus  up  and  tould  him  all  about  it :  how  he 
was  on  the  mountain — how  he  saw  the  good  people 
hurlen — how  the  ball  was  knocked  in  his  eye,  and  his 
cow  was  lost. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  the  gentleman,  pulling 
out  his  purse,  "  and  here  is  the  price  of  twenty  cows  for 
you." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Shemus,  "  you'll  not  catch  ould  birds 
wid  chaff.  I'll  have  my  cow  and  nothen  else." 

"  You're  a  funny  fellow,"  said  the  gentleman ;  "  stop 
here  and  live  in  a  palace." 

"  I'd  rather  live  with  my  mother." 

"  Foolish  boy !  "  said  the  gentleman ;  "  stop  here  and 
live  in  a  palace." 

"  I'd  rather  live  in  my  mother's  cabin." 

"  Here  you  can  walk  through  gardens  loaded  with  fruit 
and  flowers." 

"I'd  rather,"  said  Shemus,  "be  cutting  heath  on  the 
mountain." 

"  Here  you  can  eat  and  drink  of  the  best." 

*  Otherwise  "gumshun" — i.  e..  sense,  cuteness. 
f  IT.  B'eidir  pin—i.  e.,  "  that  is  possible," 


LOUGHLEAGlt.  L>S[ 

44  Since  I've  got  my  cow,  I  can  have  milk  once  more 
with  the  praties." 

"  Oh !  "  cried  the  ladies,  gathering  round  him,  "  sure 
you  wouldn't  take  away  the  cow  that  gives  us  milk  for 
our  tea  ?  " 

"Oh!"  said  Shemus,  "  my  mother  wants  milk  as  bad 
as  any  one,  and  she  must  have  it;  so  there  is  no  use  in 
your  palaver — I  must  have  my  cow/' 

At  this  they  all  gathered  about  him  and  offered  him 
bushels  of  gould,  but  he  wouldn't  have  anything  but  his 
cow.  Seeing  him  as  obstinate  as  a  mule,  they  begun  to 
thump  and  beat  him;  but  still  he  held  fast  by  the  horns, 
till  at  length  a  great  blast  of  wind  blew  him  out  of  the 
place,  and  in  a  moment  he  found  himself  and  the  cow 
standing  on  the  side  of  the  lake,  the  \vaterof  which  looked 
as  if  it  hadn't  been  disturbed  since  Adam  was  a  boy-  -and 
that's  a  long  time  since. 

Well,  Shemus-a-sneidli  drove  home  his  cow,  and  right 
glad  his  mother  was  to  see  her;  but  the  moment  she  said 
"God  bless  the  beast,"  she  sunk  down  like  the  hi'i-t-xha*  of 
a  turf  rick.  That  was  the  end  of  Shemns-a-sneid's  dun 
cow. 

"  And,  sure,"  continued  my  companion,  standing  up 
"  it  is  now  time  for  me  to  look  after  my  brown  cow,  and 
God  send  the  ganconers  haven't  taken  her!  " 

Of  this  I  assured  him  there  could  be  no  fear ;  and  so 
we  parted, 

*Ir.  briseadJi — i.  e.,  breaking. 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


HY-BRASAIL— THE  ISLE  OF  THE  BLEST. 

BY    GERALD    GRIFFIN. 

O.\  the  ocean  that  hollows  the  rocks  where  ye  dwell, 
A  shadowy  land  has  appeared,  as  they  tell ; 
Men  thought  it  a  region  of  sunshine  and  rest, 
And  they  called  it  Ily-Brasail,  the  isle  of  the  West. 
From  year  unto  year  on  the  ocean's  bine  rim, 
The  beautiful  specter  showed  lovely  and  dim ; 
The  golden  clouds  curtained  the  deep  where  it  lay, 
And  it  looked  like  an  Eden,  away,  far  away ! 

A  peasant  who  heard  of  the  wonderful  tale, 
In  the  breeze  of  the  Orient  loosened  his  sail ; 
From  Ara  the  holy,  he  turned  to  the  west, 
For  though  Ara  was  holy,  Hy-JBrasail  was  blest. 
He  heard  not  the  voices  that  called  from  the  shore- 
He  heard  not  the  rising  wind's  menacing  roar  ; 
Home,  kindred,  and  safety,  he  left  on  that  day, 
And  he  sped  to  Ily-Brasail,  away,  far  away ! 

Morn  rose  on  the  deep,  and  that  shadowy  isle, 
O'er  the  faint  rim  of  distance,  reflected  its  smile  ; 
Noon  burned  on  the  wave,  and  that  shadowy  shore 
Seemed  lovelily  distant,  and  faint  as  before  ; 
Lone  evening  came  down  on  the  wanderer's  track, 
And  to  Ara  again  he  looked  timidly  back  ; 
"  Oh  !  far  on  the  verge  of  the  ocean  it  lay, 
Yet  the  isle  of  the  blest  was  away,  far  away  ! 

Rash  dreamer,  return !     O,  ye  winds  of  the  main, 
Bear  him  back  to  his  own  peaceful  Ara  again. 
Rash  fool !  for  a  vision  of  fanciful  bliss, 
To  barter  thy  calm  life  of  labor  and  peace. 


THE  PHANTOM  ISLK. 

The  warning  of  reason  was  spoken  in  vain; 
He  never  revisited  Am  again  ! 
Night  fell  on  the  deep,  amidst  tempest  and  spray, 
And  he  died  on  the  waters,  away,  far  away ! 


THE  PHANTOM  ISLE. 

(JIRALIU  S    CAMBBENSIS.* 

A.MONT;  the  other  islands  is  one  newly  formed,  which 
they  call  the  Phantom  Isle,  which  had  its  origin  in  this 
manner.  One  calm  day  a  large  mass  of  earth  rose  to  the, 
surface  of  the  sea,  where  no  land  had  ever  heen  seen  be 
fore,  to  the  great  amazement  of  islanders  who  observed  it. 
Some  of  them  said  that  it  was  a  whale,  or  other  immense, 
sea-monster;  others,  remarking  that  it  continued  motion 
less,  said,  "  Xo  ;  it  is  land."  In  order,  therefore,  to  reduce 
their  doubts  to  certainty,  some  picked  young  men  of  the 
island  determined  to  approach  nearer  the  spot  in  a  boat. 
When,  however,  they  came  so  near  to  it  that  they  thought 
they  should  go  on  shore,  the  island  sank  in  the  water  and 
entirely  vanished  from  sight.  The  next  day  it  re-ap 
peared,  and  again  mocked  the  same  youths  with  the  like 
delusion.  At  length,  on  their  rowing  towards  it  on  the; 
third  day,  they  followed  the  advice  of  an  older  man,  and 
let  fly  an  arrow,  barbed  with  red-hot  steel,  against  the 
island  ;  and  then  landing,  found  it  stationary  and  habit 
able. 

This  adds  one  to  the  many  proofs  that  fire  is  the  great 
est  of  enemies  to  every  sort  of  phantom;  in  so  much  that 
those  who  have  seen  apparitions,  fall  into  a  swoon  as  soon 
as  they  are  sensible  of  the  brightness  of  fire.  For  fire, 

*  :-  Giraldus  Cambrensis  "  was  born  in  114G,  and  wrote  a  cele 
brated  account  of  Ireland. 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

both  from  its  position  and  nature,  is  the  noblest  of  the 
elements,  being  a  witness  of  the  secrets  of  the  heavens. 

The  sky  is  fiery  ;  the  planets  are  fiery ;  the  bush  burnt 
with  fire,  but  was  not  consumed  ;  the  Holy  Ghost  sat  upon 
the  apostles  in  tongues  of  fire. 


SAINTS,    PRIESTS. 

EVERYWHERE  in  Ireland  are  the  holy  wells.  People  as 
they  pray  by  them  make  little  piles  of  stones,  that  will  be 
counted  at  the  last  day  and  the  prayers  reckoned  up. 
Sometimes  they  tell  stories.  These  following  are  their 
stories.  They  deal  with  the  old  times,  whereof  King 
Alfred  of  Northumberland  wrote — 

"I  found  in  Innisfail  the  fair, 
In  Ireland,  \vhile  in  exile  there, 
Women  of  worth,  both  grave  and  guv  men. 
Many  clericks  and  many  laymen. 

Gold  and  silver  1  found,  and  money, 
Plenty  of  wheat,  and  plenty  of  honey  ; 
I  found  (Jod's  people  rich  in  pity. 
Found  many  a  feast,  and  many  a  eitv." 

There  are  no  martyrs  in  the  stories.  That  ancient. 
chronicler  (iinddus  taunted  the  Archbishop  of  Cashel  be 
cause  no  one  in  Ireland  had  received  the  crown  of  martyr 
dom.  "Our  people  may  be  barbarous,"  the  prelate  an 
swered,  "but  they  have  never  lifted  their  hands  against 
God's  saints ;  but  now  that  a  people  have  come  amongst 
us  who  know  how  to  make  them  (it  was  just  after  the 
English  invasion),  we  shall  have  martyrs  plentifully." 

The  bodies  of  saints  are  fastidious  things.  At  a  place 
called  Four-mile- Water,  in  Wexford,  there  is  an  old  grave 
yard  full  of  saints.  Once  it  was  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  but  they  buried  a  rogue  there,  and  the  whole  grave 
yard  moved  across  in  the  night,  leaving  the  rogue-corpse 
in  solitude.  It  would  have  been  easier  to  move  merely 
the  rogue-corpse,  but  they  were  saints,  and  had  to  do 
things  in  style. 


280  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


THE  PRIEST'S  SOUL.* 

LADY    WILDE. 

Ix  former  days  there  were  great  schools  in  Ireland, 
where  every  sort  of  learning  was  taught  to  the  people, 
and  even  the  poorest  had  more  knowledge  at  that  time 
than  many  a  gentleman  has  now.  But  as  to  the  priests, 
their  learning  was  above  all,  so  that  the  fame  of  Ireland 
went  over  the  whole  world,  and  many  kings  from  foreign 
lands  used  to  send  their  sons  all  the  way  to  Ireland  to  be 
brought  up  in  the  Irish  schools. 

Now,  at  this  time  there  was  a  little  boy  learning  at  one 
of  them,  who  was  a  wonder  to  every  one  for  his  clever 
ness.  His  parents  were  only  laboring  people,  and  of 
course  poor  ;  but  young  as  he  was,  and  as  poor  as  he  was, 
no  king's  or  lord's  son  could  come  up  to  him  in  learning. 
Even  the  masters  were  put  to  shame  ;  for  when  they  were 
trying  to  teach  him  he  would  tell  them  something  they 
never  heard  of  before,  and  show  them  their  ignorance. 
One  of  his  great  triumphs  was  in  argument ;  and  he 
would  go  on  till  he  proved  to  you  that  black  was  white, 
and  then  when  you  gave  in,  for  no  one  could  beat  him  in 
talk,  he  would  turn  around  and  show  you  that  white  was 
black,  or  maybe  that  there  was  no  color  at  all  in  the 
world.  When  he  grew  up  his  poor  father  and  mother 
were  so  proud  of  him  that  they  resolved  to  make  him  a 
priest,  which  they  did  at  last,  though  they  nearly  starved 
themselves  to  get  the  money.  Well,  such  another  learned 
man  was  not  in  Ireland,  and  he  was  as  great  in  argument 
as  ever,  so  that  no  one  could  stand  before  him.  Even  the 
bishops  tried  to  talk  to  him,  but  he  showed  them  at  once 
they  knew  nothing  at  all, 

Now,  there  were  no  schoolmasters  in  those  times,  but 

*  Ancient  Legends  of  Ireland. 


TIIK  PRIEST'S  SOUL.  287 

it  was  the  priests  taught  the  people  ;  and  as  this  man 
was  the  cleverest  in  Ireland,  all  the  foreign  kings  sent 
their  sons  to  him  as  long  as  he  had  house-room  to  give 
them.  So  he  grew  very  proud,  and  began  to  -forget  how 
low  he  had  been,  and  worst  of  all,  even  to  forget  God, 
who  had  made  him  what  he  was.  And  the  pride  of  ar 
guing  got  hold  of  him,  so  that  from  one  thing  to  another 
lie  went  on  to  prove  that  there  was  no  Purgatory,  and 
then  no  Hell,  and  then  no  Heaven,  and  then  no  (Jod  ;  and 
at  last  that  men  had  no  souls,  but  were  no  more  than  a 
dog  or  a  eow,  and  when  they  died  there  was  an  end  of 
them.  u  Whoever  saw  a  soul?"  he  would  say.  u  If  you 
can  show  me  one,  T  will  believe."  \o  one  could  make; 
any  answer  to  this;  and  at  last  they  all  come  to  believe 
that  as  there  was  no  other  world,  every  one  might  do  what 
tliev  liked  in  this;  the  priest  setting  the  example,  for  he 
took  a  beautiful  young  girl  to  wife.  IJut  as  no  priest  or 
bishop  in  the  whole  land  could  be  got  to  marrv  them,  he 
was  obliged  to  read  the  service  over  for  himself.  It  was 
a  great  scandal,  yet  no  one  dared  to  say  a  word,  for  all 
the  king's  sons  were1  on  his  side,  and  would  have  slaugh 
tered  any  one  who  tried  to  prevent  his  wicked  goings-on. 
Poor  boys  ;  they  all  believed  in  him,  and  thought  ev.ery 
word  he  said  was  the  truth.  In  this  way  his  notions 
began  to  spread  about,  and  the  whole  world  was  going 
to  the  bad,  when  one  night  an  angel  came  down  from 
Heaven,  and  told  the  priest  he  had  but  twenty-four  hours 
to  live.  He  began  to  tremble,  and  asked  fora  little  more 
time. 

lint  the  angel  was  stiff,  and  told  him  that  could  not  be. 

"  What  do  you  want  time  for,  you  sinner?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh,  sir,  have  pity  on  my  poor  soul!"  urged  the 
priest. 

"Oh,  no!  You  have  a  soul,  then,"  said  the  angel. 
"  Pray,  how  did  you  find  that  out  ?  " 

"  It  has  been  fluttering  in  me  ever  since  you  appeared," 
answered  the  priest.  "What  a  fool  1  was  not  to  think 
of  it  before." 


288  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  A  fool,  indeed,"  said  the  angel.  "  What  good  was  all 
your  learning,  when  it  could  not  tell  you  that  you  had  a 
soul?" 

"  Ah,  my.  lord,"  said  the  priest,  "  if  I  am  to  die,  tell  me 
how  soon  I  may  be  in  Heaven  ?  " 

"  Never,"  replied  the  angel.  "  You  denied  there  was  a 
Heaven." 

"  Then,  my  lord,  may  I  go  to  Purgatory  ?  " 

"  You  denied  Purgatory  also ;  you  must  go  straight  to 
Hell,"  said  the  angel. 

"  But,  my  lord,  I  denied  Hell  also,"  answered  the  priest, 
"  so  you  can't  send  me  there  either." 

The  angel  was  a  little  puzzled. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  « I'll  tell  you  what  I  can  do  for  you. 
You  may  either  live  now  on  earth  for  a  hundred  years, 
enjoying  every  pleasure,  and  then  be  cast  into  Hell  for 
ever ;  or  you  may  die  in  twenty-four  hours  in  the  most 
horrible  torments,  and  pass  through  Purgatory,  there  to 
remain  till  the  Day  of  Judgment,  if  only  you  can  find 
some  one  person  that  believes,  and  through  his  belief 
mercy  will  be  vouchsafed  to  you,  and  your  soul  will  be 
saved." 

The  priest  did  not  take  five  minutes  to  make  up  his 
mind. 

"  I  will  have  death  in  the  twenty-four  hours,"  he  said, 
"  so  that  my  soul  may  be  saved  at  last." 

On  this  the  angel  gave  him  directions  as  to  what  he  was 
to  do,  and  left  him. 

Then  immediately  the  priest  entered  the  large  room 
where  all  the  scholars  and  the  kings'  sons  were  seated, 
and  called  out  to  them — 

"  Now,  tell  me  the  truth,  and  let  none  fear  to  contra 
dict  me  ;  tell  me  what  is  your  belief — have  men  souls  ?  " 

"  Master,"  they  answered,  "  once  we  believed  that  men 
had  souls  ;  but  thanks  to  your  teaching,  we  believe  so  no 
longer.  There  is  no  Hell,  and  no  Heaven,  and  no  God. 
This  is  our  belief,  for  it  is  thus  you  taught  us." 

Then  the  priest  grew  pale  with  fear,  and  cried  out— 


THE  PRIEST'S  SOUL.  o$<) 

"Listen!  I  taught  you  a  lie.  There  is  a  <4od,  and  man 
has  an  immortal  soul.  I  believe  now  all  I  denied  be 
fore." 

But  the  shouts  of  laughter  that  rose  up  drowned  the 
priest's  voice,  for  they  thought  he  was  only  trying  them 
for  argument. 

"  Prove  it,  master,"  they  cried.  "Prove  it.  Who  has 
ever  seen  God  ?  Who  has  ever  seen  the  soul?" 

And  the  room  was  stirred  with  their  laughter. 

The  priest  stood  up  to  answer  them,  but  no  word  could 
he  utter.  All  his  eloquence,  all  his  powers  of  argument 
had  gone  from  him  ;  and  he  could  do  nothing  but  wring 
his  hands  and  cry  out,  "-There  is  a  God  !  there  is  a  God  ! 
Lord  have  mercy  on  my  soul!" 

And  they  all  began  to  mock  him  !  and  repeat  his  own 
words  that  he  had  taught  them — 

"Show  him  tons;  show  us  your  (iod."  And  he  tied 
from  them,  groaning  with  agony,  for  he  saw  that  none 
believed;  and  how,  then,  could  his  soul  be  saved? 

But  he  thought  next  of  his  wife.  u  She  will  believe,'' 
he  said  to  himself:  "  women  never  give  up  God." 

And  he  went  to  her  ;  but  she  told  him  that  she  believed 
only  what  he  taught  her,  and  that  a  good  wife  should 
believe  in  her  husband  1irst  and  before  and  above  all  things 
in  Heaven  or  earth. 

Then  despair  came  on  him,  and  he  rushed  from  the 
house,  and  began  to  ask  every  one  he  met  if  they  believed. 
But  the  same  answer  came  from  one  and  all — "We  be 
lieve  only  what  you  have  taught  us,"  for  his  doctrine  had 
spread  far  and  wide  through  the  country. 

Then  he  grew  half  mud  with  fear,  for  the  hours  were 
passing,  and  he  flung  himself  down  on  the  ground  in  a 
lonesome  spot,  and  wept  and  groaned  in  terror,  for  the 
time  was  coming  fast  when  he  must  die. 

Just  then  a  little  child  came  by.  "  God  save  you 
kindly,"  said  the  child  to  him. 

The  priest  started  up. 

"Do  you  believe  in  God  ?  "  he  asked. 
19 


i>',iO  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  I  have  come  from  a  far  country  to  learn  about  him," 
said  the  child.  "  Will  your  honor  direct  me  to  the  best 
school  they  have  in  these  parts  ?  " 

u  The  best  school  and  the  best  teacher  is  close  by,"  said 
the  priest,  and  he  named  himself. 

"  Oh,  not  to  that  man,"  answered  the  child,  "  for  I  am 
told  he  denies  God,  and  Heaven,  and  Hell,  and  even  that 
man  has  a  soul,  because  he  cannot  see  it ;  but  I  would 
soon  put  him  down." 

The  priest  looked  at  him  earnestly.  "How?"  he  in 
quired. 

"  Why,"  said  the  child,  "  I  would  ask  him  if  he  believed 
he  had  life  to  show  me  his  life." 

"  But  he  could  not  do  that,  my  child,"  said  the  priest. 
"  Life  cannot  be  seen ;  we  have  it,  but  it  is  invisible." 

"  Then  if  we  have  life,  though  we  cannot  see  it,  we  may 
also  have  a  soul,  though  it  is  invisible,"  answered  the 
child. 

When  the  priest  heard  him  speak  these  words,  he  fell 
down  on  his  knees  before  him,  weeping  for  joy,  for  now  he 
knew  his  soul  was  safe  ;  he  had  met  one  at  last  that  be 
lieved.  And  he  told  the  child  his  whole  story — all  his 
wickedness,  and  pride,  and  blasphemy  against  the  great 
God;  and  how  the  angel  had  come  to  him,  and  told  him  of 
the  only  way  in  which  he  could  be  saved,  through  the 
faith  and  prayers  of  some  one  that  believed. 

"Now,  then,"  he  said  to  the  child,  "take  this  penknife 
and  strike  it  into  my  breast,  and  go  on  stabbing  the  flesh 
until  you  see  the  paleness  of  death  on  my  face.  Then 
watch — for  a  living  thing  will  soar  up  from  my  body  as 
I  die,  and  you  will  then  know  that  my  soul  lias  ascended  to 
the  presence  of  God.  And  when  you  see  this  thing,  make 
haste  and  run  to  my  school,  and  call  on  all  my  scholars 
to  come  and  see  that  the  soul  of  their  master  has  left  the 
body,  and  that  all  he  taught  them  was  a  lie,  for  that  there 
is  a  God  who  punishes  sin,  and  a  Heaven,  and  a  Hell,  and 
that  man  has  an  immortal  soul  destined  for  eternal  hap 
piness  or  misery." 


THE  PRIEST'S  SOUL. 

"I  will  pray,"  said  the  child,  "to  have  courage  to  do 
this  work.1" 

And  lie  kneeled  down  and  prayed.  Then  when  he  rose 
up  he  took  the  penknife  and  struck  it  into  the  priest's 
heart,  and  struck  and  struck  again  till  all  the  flesh  was 
lacerated  ;  hut  still  the  priest  lived,  though  the  agony  was 
horrible,  for  he  could  not  die  until  the  twenty-four  hours 
had  expired. 

At  last  the  agony  seemed  to  cease,  and  the  stillness  of 
death  settled  on  his  face.  Then  the  child,  who  was 
watching,  saw  a  beautiful  living  creature,  with  four  snow- 
white  wings,  mount  from  the  dead  man's  body  into  the 
air  and  go  fluttering  round  his  head. 

So  he  ran  to  bring  the  scholars  ;  and  when  they  saw  it, 
they  all  knew  it  was  the  soul  of  their  master;  and  they 
watched  with  wonder  and  awe  until  it  passed  from  sight 
into  the  clouds. 

And  this  was  the  first  butterfly  that  was  ever  seen  in 
Ireland;  and  now  all  men  know  that  the  butterflies  art; 
the  souls  of  the  dead,  waiting  for  the  moment  when  they 
may  enter  Purgatory,  and  so  pass  through  torture  to 
purification  and  peace. 

But  the  schools  of  Ireland  were  quite  deserted  after 
that  time,  for  people  said,  What  is  the  use  of  going  so  far 
to  learn,  when  the  wisest  man  in  all  Ireland  did  not  know 
if  he  had  a  soul  till  he  was  near  losing  it,  and  was  only 
saved  at  last  through  the  simple  belief  of  a  little  child 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


THE  PRIEST  OF  COLOONY. 


W.    B.    YEATS. 

GOOD  Father  John  O'Hart  * 

In  penal  days  rode  out 
To  a  shoneen  in  his  freelands, 

With  his  snipe  marsh  and  his  trout. 

In  trust  took  he  John's  lands, 

—Sleiveens  were  all  his  race — 
And  he  gave  them  as  dowers  to  his  daughters, 

And  they  married  beyond  their  place. 

But  Father  John  went  up, 

And  Father  John  went  down ; 
And  he  wore  small  holes  in  his  shoes, 

And  lie  wore  large  holes  in  his  gown. 

All  loved  him,  only  the  shoneen, 

Whom  the  devils  have  by  the  hair, 
From  their  wives  and  their  cats  and  their  children, 

To  the  birds  in  the  white  of  the  air. 

*  Father  O'Rourke  is  the  priest  of  the  parishes  of  Ballysadare 
and  Kilvarnet,  and  it  is  from  his  learnedly  and  faithfully  and 
sympathetically  written  history  of  these  parishes  that  I  have 
taken  the  story  of  Father  John,  who  had  been  priest  of  these 
parishes,  dying  in  the  year  1739.  Coloony  is  a  village  in  Kilvar 
net. 

Some  sayings  of  Father  John's  have  come  down.  Once  when 
he  was  sorrowing  greatly  for  the  death  of  his  brother,  the  people 
said  to  him,  "  Why  do  you  sorrow  so  for  your  brother  when  you 
forbid  us  to  keen  ?  "  "  Nature,"  he  answered,  "  forces  me,  but  ye 
force  nature."  His  memory  and  influence  survives,  in  the  fact 
that  to  the  present  day  there  has  been  no  keening  in  Coloony. 

He  was  a  friend  of  the  celebrated  poet  and  musician,  Carolan, 
f  Shoneen — i.e.,  upstart.  \  Sleiveen — i.e.,  mean  fellow, 


THE  PRIEST  OF  COLOONY.  293 

The  birds,  for  lie  opened  their  cages, 

As  he  went  up  and  down  ; 
And  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  Have  peace,  now," 

And  went  his  way  with  a  frown. 

JJut  if  when  any  one  died, 

Came  keeners  hoarser  than  rooks, 
He  bade  them  give  over  their  keening, 

For  he  was  a  man  of  books. 

And  these  were  the  works  of  John, 

When  weeping  score  by  score, 
People  came  into  Coloony, 

For  he'd  died  at  ninety-four. 

There  was  no  human  keening; 

The  birds  from  Knocknarea, 
And  the  world  round  Knocknashee, 

Came  keening  in  that  day, — 

Keening  from  Innismnrry, 

Xor  stayed  for  bit  or  sup; 
This  way  were  all  reproved 

Who  dig  old  customs  up. 

[Coloony  is  a  fe\v  miles  south  of  the  town  of  Sligo.  Father 
OTIart  lived  there  in  the  last  century,  and  was  greatly  beloved. 
These  lines  accurately  record  the  tradition.  No  one  who  lias 
held  the  stolen  land  has  prospered.  It  has  changed  owners 
many  times.] 


1>94:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LITTLE  BIRD.* 

T.    CROFTOX    CHOKER. 

MANY  years  ago  there  was  a  very  religious  and  holy 
man,  one  of  the  monks  of  a  convent,  and  he  was  one  day 
kneeling  at  his  prayers  in  the  garden  of  his  monastery, 
when  he  heard  a  little  bird  singing  in  one  of  the  rose-trees 
of  the  garden,  and  there  never  was  anything  that  he  had 
heard  in  the  Avorld  so  sweet  as  the  song  of  that  little  bird. 

And  the  holy  man  rose  up  from  his  knees  where  he  was 
kneeling  at  his  prayers  to  listen  to  its  song  ;  for  he  thought 
he  never  in  all  his  life  heard  anything  so  heavenly. 

And  the  little  bird,  after  singing  for  some  time  longer 
on  the  rose-tree,  flew  away  to  a  grove  at  some  distance 
from  the  monastery,  and  the  holy  man  followed  it  to  listen 
to  its  singing,  for  he  felt  as  if  he  would  never  be  tired  of 
listening  to  the  sweet  song  it  was  singing  out  of  its  throat. 

And  the  little  bird  after  that  went  away  to  another  dis 
tant  tree,  and  sung  there  for  a  while,  and  then  to  another 
tree,  and  so  on  in  the  same  manner,  but  ever  further  and 
further  away  from  the  monastery,  and  the  holy  man  still 
following  it  farther,  and  farther,  and  farther,  still  listening 
delighted  to  its  enchanting  song. 

But  at  last  he  was  obliged  to  give  up,  as  it  was  growing 
late  in  the  day,  and  he  returned  to  the  convent ;  and  as 
he  approached  it  in  the  evening,  the  sun  Avas  setting  in 
the  west  with  all  the  most  heavenly  colors  that  were  ever 
seen  in  the  world,  and  when  he  came  into  the  convent,  it 
was  nightfall. 

And  he  was  quite  surprised  at  everything  he  saw,  for 
they  were  all  strange  faces  about  him  in  the  monastery  thai 
he  had  never  seen  before,  and  the  very  place  itself,  and 
everything  about  it,  seemed  to  be  strangely  altered ;  and, 

*  Amulet,  1827.    T.  C.  Croker  wrote  this,  he  says,   word   for 
word  as  he  heard  it  from  an  old  woman  at  a  holy  well, 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LITTLE  BIRD.  •><> 


altogether,  it  seemed  entirely  different  from  what  it  was 
when  he  had  left  in  the  morning  ;  and  the  garden  was  not 
like  the  garden  where  he  had  been  kneeling  at  his  devotion 
when  he  first  heard  the  singing  of  the  little  bird. 

And  while  he  was  wondering  at  all  he  saw,  one  of  the 
monks  of  the  convent  came  up  to  him,  and  the  holy  man 
questioned  him,  ".Brother,  what  is  the  cause  of  all  these 
strange  changes  that  have  taken  place  here  since  the 
morning?  " 

And  the  monk  that  lie  spoke  to  seemed  to  wonder 
greatly  at  liis  question,  and  asked  him  what  lie  meant  by 
the  change  since  morning?  for,  sure,  there  was  no  change; 
that  all  was  just  as  before.  And  then  he  said,  "  Brother, 
why  do  yon  ask  these  strange  questions,  and  what  is  your 
name?  for  yon  wear  the  habit  of  our  order,  though  we 
have  never  seen  you  before.'1 

So  upon  this  the  holy  man  told  his  name,  and  said  that 
he  had  been  at  mass  in  the  chapel  in  the  morning  before 
he  had  wandered  away  from  the  garden  listening  to  the 
song  of  a  little  bird  that  was  singing  among  the  rose-trees, 
near  where  he  was  kneeling  at  his  prayers. 

And  the  brother,  while  he  was  speaking,  ga/.ed  at  him 
very  earnestly,  and  then  told  him  that  there  was  in  the 
convent  a  tradition  of  a  brother  of  his  name,  who  had  left 
it  two  hundred  years  before,  but  that  what  was  become 
of  him  was  never  known. 

And  while  h(4  was  speaking,  the  holy  man  said,  u  My 
hour  of  death  is  come;  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord 
for  all  his  mercies  to  me,  through  the  merits  of  his  only- 
begotten  Son/' 

And  he  kneeled  down  that  very  moment,  and  said, 
4i  Brothei',  take  my  confession,  for  my  soul  is  departing'/' 

And  he  made  his  confession,  and  received  his  absolution, 
and  was  anointed,  and  before  midnight  he  died. 

The  little  bird,  you  see,  was  an  angel,  one  of  the  chrr- 
ubims  or  seraphims  ;  and  that  was  the  way  the  Almighty 
was  pleased  in  His  mercy  to  take  to  Himself  the  soul  of 
that  holy  rn 


296  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


CONVERSION  OF  KING  LAOGHAIRE'S 
DAUGHTERS. 

ONCE  when  Patrick  and  his  clericks  were  sitting  beside 
a  well  in  the  Rath  of  Croghan,  with  books  open  on  their 
knees,  they  saw  coming  towards  them  the  two  young 
daughters  of  the  King  of  Connaught.  'Twas  early  morn 
ing,  and  they  were  going  to  the  well  to  bathe. 

The  young  girls  said  to  Patrick,  "  Whence  are  ye,  and 
whence  come  ye  ?  "  and  Patrick  answered,  "  It  were  better 
for  you  to  confess  to  the  true  God  than  to  inquire  con 
cerning  our  race." 

"  Who  is  God  ?  "  said  the  young  girls,  "  and  where  is 
God,  and  of  what  nature  is  God,  and  where  is  His  dwell 
ing-place  ?  Has  your  God  sons  and  daughters,  gold  and 
silver  ?  Is  he  everlasting  ?  Is  he  beautiful  ?  Did  Mary 
foster  her  son  ?  Are  His  daughters  dear  and  beauteous 
to  men  of  the  world  ?  Is  He  in  heaven,  or  on  earth,  in 
the  sea,  in  rivers,  in  mountainous  places,  in  valleys  ?  " 

Patrick  answered  them,  and  made  known  who  God  was, 
and  they  believed  arid  were  baptized,  and  a  white  garment 
put  upon  their  heads ;  and  Patrick  asked  them  would  they 
live  on,  or  would  they  die  and  behold  the  face  of  Christ  ? 
They  chose  death,  and  died  immediately,  and  were  buried 
near  the  well  Clebach, 


KING  OTOOLE  AND  HIS  GOOSE. 


KING  OTOOLE  AND  HIS  GOOSE. 


"  BY  Gor,  I  thought  all  the  world,  far  and  near,  heerd  o' 
King  O'Toole — well,  well,  but  the  darkness  of  mankind  is 
ontellible  !  Well,  sir,  you  must  know,  as  you  didn't  hear  it 
afore,  that  there  was  a  king,  called  King  O'Toole,  who  was 
a  line  ould  king  in  the  ould  ancient  times,  long  ngo  ;  and 
it  was  him  that  owned  the  churches  in  the  early  days. 
The  king,  you  see,  was  the  right  sort ;  he  was  the  rale 
hoy,  and  loved  sport  as  he  loved  his  life,  and  huntin'  in 
particular ;  and  from  the  rishr  o'  the  sun,  up  he  got,  and 
away  he  wintover  the  mountains  beyant  afther  the  deer; 
and  the  fine  times  them  wor. 

"  Well,  it  was  all  mighty  good,  as  long  as  the  king  had 
his  health  ;  but,  you  see,  in  coorse  of  time  the  king  grew 
ould,  by  raison  he  was  stiff  in  his  limbs,  and  when  he  got 
sthriken  in  years,  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  was  lost 
intirely  for  want  o'  divarshin,  bekase  he  couldn't  go 
a  huntin'  no  longer ;  and,  by  dad,  the  poor  king  was 
obleeged  at  last  for  to  get  a  goose  to  divart  him.  Oh,  you 
may  laugh,  if  you  like,  but  it's  truth  I'm  tellin'  you ;  and 
the  way  the  goose  di varied  him  was  this-a-way  :  You  see, 
the  goose  used  for  to  swim  acrass  the  lake,  and  go  divin' 
for  throut,  and  cotch  fish  on  a  Friday  for  the  king,  and 
flew  every  other  day  round  about  .the  lake,  divartin'  the 
poor  king.  All  went  on  mighty  well,  antil,  by  dad,  the 
goose  got  sthriken  in  years  like  her  master,  and  couldn't 
divart  him  no  longer,  and  then  it  was  that  the  poor  king 
was  lost  complate.  The  king  was  walkin'  one  morniu' 
by  the  edge  of  the  lake,  lamentin'  his  cruel  fate,  and 
thmkin'  o'  drownin'  himself,  that  could  get  no  divarshun 
in  life,  when  all  of  a  suddint,  turnin'  round  the  corner 


29$  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

beyant,  who  should  he  meet  but  a  mighty  dacent  young 
man  comin'  up  to  him. 

" '  God  save  you,'  says  the  king  to  the  young  man. 

" '  God  save  you  kindly,  King  O'Toole,'  says  the  young 
man.  '  Thrue  for  you,1  says  the  king.  '  I  am  King 
O'Toole,'  says  he,  'prince  and  plennypennytinchery  o' 
these  parts,'  says  he  ;  '  but  how  kem  ye  to  know  that  ?  ' 
says  he.  '  Oh,  never  mind,'  says  St.  Kavin 

"  You  see  it  was  Saint  Kavin,  sure  enough — the  saint 
himself  in  disguise,  and  nobody  else.  '  Oh,  never  mind,' 
says  he,  '  I  know  more  than  that.  May  I  make  bowld  to 
ax  how  is  your  goose,  King  O'Toole  ?  '  says  he.  '  Blur- 
an-agers,  how  kem  ye  to  know  about  my  goose  ? '  says 
the  king.  '  Oh,  no  matther ;  I  was  given  to  understand  it,' 
says  Saint  Kavin.  After  some  more  talk  the  king  says, 
'  What  are  you  ? '  '  I'm  an  honest  man,'  says  Saint  Kavin. 
'Well,  honest  man,' says  the  king, 'and  how  is  it  you 
make  your  money  so  aisy ? '  'By  makin'  ould  things  as 
good  as  new,'  says  Saint  Kavin.  '  Is  it  a  tinker  you  are  ?  ' 
says  the  king.  '  No,'  says  the  saint ;  '  I'm  no  tinker  by 
thrade,  King  O'Toole  ;  I've  a  betther  thrade  than  a  tinker,' 
says  he — 'what  would  you  say,'  says  he,  'if  I  made  your 
ould  goose  as  good  as  new  ?  ' 

"  My  dear,  at  the  word  o'  making  his  goose  as  good  as 
new,  you'd  think  the  poor  ould  king's  eyes  was  ready  to 
jump  out  iv  his  head.  Writh  that  the  king  whistled,  and 
down  kem  the  poor  goose,  all  as  one  as  a  hound,  waddlin1 
up  to  the  poor  cripple,  her  masther,  and  as  like  him  as  two 
pays.  The  minute  the  saint  clapt  his  eyes  on  the  goose, 
'  I'll  do  the  job  for  you,'  says  he,  '  King  O'Toole.'  '  By 
Jaminee  ! '  says  King  O'Toole, '  if  you  do,  bud  I'll  say  you're 
the  cleverest  fellow  in  the  sivin  parishes.'  '  Oh,  by  dad,' 
says  St.  Kavin,  'you  must  say  more  nor  that — my  horn's 
not  so  soft  all  out,'  says  he, '  as  to  repair  your  ould  goose  for 
nothin' ;  what'll  you  gi'  me  if  I  do  the  job  for  you  ? — that's 
the  chat,'  says  St.  Kavin.  '  1 11  give  you  whatever  you  ax,' 
says  the  king  ;  '  isn't  that  fair  ?  '  '  Divil  a  fairer,'  says  the 
saint ;  '  that's  the  way  to  do  business.  Xow,'  says  he, '  this 


K1X(J  OTOOLE  AND  HIS  UOOSE.  299 

is  the  bargain  I'll  make  with  you,  King  O'Toole:  will 
you  gi'  me  all  the  ground  the  goose  flies  over,  the  first  oti'er, 
at'therl  make  her  as  good  as  new  V  4I  will,' says  the  king. 
k  You  won't  go  back  o'  your  word?'  says  St.  Kavin. 
w  Honor  bright  !  '  says  King  O'Toole,  howldin'  out  his  fist. 
k  1  loiior  bright ! '  says  St.  Kavin,  back  agin,  <  it's  a  bargain. 
Come  here  !'  says  he  to  the  poor  ould  goose — 'come  here, 
you  unfort'nate  ould  cripple,  and  it's  I  that'll  make  you  the 
sportin'  bird/  With  that,  my  dear,  he  took  up  the  goose  by 
the  two  wings — '  (Yiss  o'  my  crass  an  you,'  says  he,  markin' 
her  to  grace  with  the  blessed  sign  at  the  same  minute — and 
throwin'  her  up  in  the  air,  w  whew/  says  he,  jist  givin'  her  a 
blast  to  help  her;  and  with  that,  my  jewel,  she  tuk  to  her 
heels,  flyin' like  one  o' the  aigles  themselves  and  cuttin' 
as  man\'  capers  as  a  swallow  before  a  shower  of  rain. 

-  Well,  my  deal1,  it  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  the 
king  standin'  with  his  mouth  open,  lookhf  at  his  poor 
ould  goose  fly  in'  as  light  as  a  lark,  and  betther  nor  ever 
she  was:  and  when  she  lit  at  his  f'it,  patted  her  an  the. 
head,  and,  '  M<>  roni-in'cn,"  says  he,  '  but  you  are  the  <Jnr- 
Hut  o'  the  world.'  'And  what  do  you  say  to  me,'  says 
Saint  Kavin,  'for  makin'  her  the  like?'  '  By  gor,'  says 
the  king,  '1  say  nothin'  bates  the  art  o'  man,  barrin'  the 
bees.'  4  And  do  you  say  no  more  nor  that?'  says  Saint 
Kavin.  'And  that  I'm  behoulden  to  you,1  says  the  king. 
4  But  will  you  give  me  all  the  ground  the  goose  flew 
over  ?  '  says  Saint  Kavin.  '  I  will,1  says  King  O'Toole, '  and 
you're  welkim  to  it,'  says  he,  'though  it's  the  last  acre  I 
have  to  gi  ve.'  '  But  you'll  keep  your  word  thrue  ? '  says  the 
saint.  '  As  thrue  as  the  sun,'  says  the  king.  '  It's  well 
for  you,  King  O'Toole,  that  yon  said  that  word,'  says  he ; 
'for  if  you  didn't  say  that  word,  the  fl<>ril  receave  the  l>it, 
o'  your  f/oose  id  ercr  fl;/  <i</hi.'>  "Whin  the  king  was  as 
good  as  his  word,  Saint  Kavin  \\i\s  pJ<i zed  with  him,  and 
thin,  it  was  that  he  made  himself  known  to  the  king.  '  And,' 
says  he,  '  King  O'Toole,  you're  a  decent  man,  for  I  only 
kem  here  to  ttrry  ;/<»'.  You  don't  know  me,'  says  he, 
'bekase  I'm  disguised.'  '^lusha!  thin,'  says  the  king, 


300  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

4  who  are  you?  '  I'm  Saint  Ravin,'  said  the  Saint,  blessin' 
himself.  '  Oh,  queen  iv  heaven  ! '  says  the  king  makin' 
the  sign  o'  the  crass  betime  his  eyes,  and  faliin'  down  on 
his  knees  before  the  saint ;  4  is  it  the  great  Saint  Kavin,' 
says  he,  '  that  I've  been  discoorsin'  all  this  time  without 
knowin'  it,'  says  he,  '  all  as  one  as  if  he  was  a  lump  iv  a 
gosson  f — and  so  you're  a  saint  ?  '  says  the  king.  '  I  am,' 
says  Saint  Kaviri.  '  By  gor,  I  thought  I  was  only  talking 
to  a  dacent  boy,'  says  the  king.  <  Well,  you  know  the 
differ  now,'  says  the  saint.  '  I'm  Saint  Kavin,'  says  he, 
4  the  greatest  of  all  the  saints.'  And  so  the  king  had  his 
goose  as  good  as  new,  to  divart  him  as  long  as  he  lived : 
and  the  saint  supported  him  afther  he  kem  into  his  prop 
erty,  as  I  tould  you,  until  the  day  iv  his  death — and  that 
was  soon  afther ;  for  the  poor  goose  thought  he  was 
ketchin'  a  throut  one  Friday ;  but,  my  jewel,  it  was  a 
mistake  he  made — and  instead  of  a  throut,  it  was  a  thievin' 
horse-eel;  and  by  gor,  insteadjv  the  goose  killin'  a  throut 
for  the  king's  supper, — by  dad,  the  eel  killed  the  king's 
goose — and  small  blame  to  him ;  but  he  didn't  ate  her, 
bekase  he  darn't  ate  what  Saint  Kavin  had  laid  his 
blessed  hands  on." 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LEG. 

THEME  were  live  hundred  blind  men,  and  live  hundred 
deaf  men,  and  live  hundred  limping1  men,  and  live  hun 
dred  dumb  men,  and  live  hundred  cripple  men.  The  live 
hundred  deaf  men  had  live  hundred  \vives,  and  the  five 
hundred  limping  men  had  five  hundred  wives,  and  the 
live  hundred  dumb  men  had  live  hundred  wives,  and  the 
live  hundred  cripple  men  hud  live  hundred  wives.  Kuch 
live  hundred  of  these  had  live  hundred  children  and  live 
hundred  dogs.  They  were  in  the  habit  of  going  about  in 
one  band,  and  were  called  the  Sturdy  Strolling  Beggarly 
Brotherhood.  There  was  a  knight  in  Erin  culled  O'Oron- 
icert.  with  whom  they  spent  a  dav  and  a  year:  and  they 
ate  up  all  that  he  had,  and  made  a  poor  man  of  him,  till 
lie  bad  nothing  left  but  an  old  tumble-down  black  house, 
and  an  old  lame  white  horse.  There  was  a  king  in  Kriu 
called  Brian  Born;  and  OVronicert  went  to  him  for  help. 
lie  cut  a  cudgel  of  gray  oak  on  the  outskirts  of  the  Avood, 
mounted  the  old  lame  white  horse,  and  set  off  at  speed 
through  wood  and  over  moss  and  rugged  ground,  till  he 
reached  the  king's  house.  When  he  arrived  he  went  on 
his  knees  to  the  king;  and  the  king  said  to  him,  "  What 
is  your  news,  (VCronicert  ^  " 

"  I  have  but  poor  news  for  you,  king."' 

"What  poor  news  have  you?"  said  the  king-. 

"That  I  have  had  the  Sturdy  Strolling  Beggarly 
Brotherhood  for  a  day  and  a  year,  and  they  have  eaten  all 
that  I  had,  and  made  a  poor  man  of  me,"  said  he. 

"Well!  "  said  the  king,  "I  am  sorry  for  you;  what  do 
you  want  ? " 

"  I  want  help/'  said  O'Cronicert ;  "anything  that  you 
may  be  willing  to  give  me." 


:;<)-_>  HilSlJ  FAIRY  TALES. 

Tluj  king  promised  him  a  hundred  cows.  TTc  went  to 
the  queen,  and  made  his  complaint  to  her,  and  she  gave 
him  another  hundred.  He  went  to  the  king's  son,  Mur 
doch  Mac  Brian,  and  he  got  another  hundred  from  him. 
lie  got  food  and  drink  at  the  king's;  and  when  he  was 
going  away  he  said,  "  Xow  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you.  This  will  set  me  very  well  on  my  feet.  After  all 
that  I  have  got  there  is  another  thing  that  I  want." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  king. 

"  Tt  is  the  lap-dog  that  is  in  and  out  after  the  queen 
that  T  wish  for." 

"  Ila  !  "  said  the  king,  "  it  is  your  mightiness  and  pride 
that  has  caused  the  loss  of  your  means ;  hut  if  you  be 
come  a  good  man  you  shall  get  this  along  with  the 
rest." 

O'Cronicert  bade  the  king  good-by,  took  the  lap-dog, 
leapt  on  the  back  of  the  old  lame  white  horse,  and  went 
oft'  at  speed  through  wood,  and  over  moss  and  rugged 
ground.  After  he  had  gone  some  distance  through  the 
wood  a  roebuck  leapt  up  and  the  lap-dog  went  after  it. 
In  a  moment  the  deer  started  up  as  a  woman  behind 
O'Cronicert,  the  handsomest  that  eye  had  ever  seen  from 
the  beginning  of  the  universe  till  the  end  of  eternity. 
She  said  to  him,  "  Call  your  dog  off  me." 

"  I  will  do  so  if  you  promise  to  marry  me,"  said 
O'Cronicert. 

"  If  you  keep  three  vows  that  I  shall  lay  upon  you  I 
will  marry  you,"  said  she. 

"  What  vows  are  they  ?  "  said  he. 

"  The  first  is  that  you  do  not  go  to  ask  your  worldly 
king  to  a  feast  or  a  dinner  without  first  letting  me  know," 
said  she. 

"  Hoch  !  "  said  O'Cronicert,  "  do  you  think  that  I  can 
not  keep  that  vow?  I  would  never  go  to  invite  my 
worldly  king  without  informing  you  that  I  was  going  to 
do  so.  It  is  easy  to  keep  that  vow." 

"  You  are  likely  to  keep  it ! "  said  she. 

"  The  second  vow  is,"  said  she,  "  that  you  do  not  cast 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYX'S  LEU.  30;*, 

iij.)  to  nu'  in  any  company  or  meeting  in  which  we  shall 
be  together,  that  yon  found  me  in  the  form  of  a  deer." 

"Hoo!"  said  OVronicert,  "yon  need  not  to  lay  that 
vow  upon  me.  1  would  keep  it  at  any  rate." 

"  You  are  likely  to  keep  it!  "'  said  she. 

"  The  third  vow  is,"  said  she,  "  that  yon  do  not  leave 
me  in  the  company  of  only  one  man  while  yon  go  out/' 
It  \vas  agreed  between  them  that  she  should  marry  him. 

They  reached  the  old  tumble-down  black  house.  (Irass 
they  cut  in  the  clefts  and  ledges  of  the  rocks;  a  bed  they 
made  and  laid  down.  O'Cronicert's  wakening  from  sleep 
was  the  lowing  of  cattle  and  the  bleating  of  slice]*  and  the 
neighing  of  mares,  while  he  himself  was  in  a  bed  of  gold 
on  wheels  of  silver,  going  from  end  to  end  of  the  Tower 
of  Castle  Town. 

"I  am  sure  that  you  are  surprised,"  said  she. 

"  I  am  indeed,"  said  he. 

u  You  are  in  your  own  room,"  said  she. 

"In  my  own  room,"  said  he.  "I  never  had  such  a. 
room." 

"I  know  well  that  you  never  had,"  said  she  ;  "but  you 
have  it  now.  So  long  as  you  keep  me  you  shall  ke&'p  the 
room." 

lie  then  rose,  and  put  on  his  clothes,  and  went  out. 
lie  took  a  look  at  the.  house  when  he  went  out;  audit 
was  a  palace,  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  seen,  and  the 
king  himself  did  not  possess.  He  then  took  a  walk 
round  the  farm;  and  he  never  saw  so  many  cattle,  slice]), 
and  horses  as  were  on  it.'  lie  returned  to  the  house,  and 
said  to  his  wife  that  the  farm  was  being-  ruined  by  other 
people's  cattle  and  slice]).  "It  is  not,"  said  she  :  u  your 
own  cattle  and  sheep  are  on  it/' 

"  I  never  had  so  many  cattle  and  sheep,'1  said  he. 

"  I  know  that,"  said  she  :  "but  so  long  as  you  keep  me 
you  shall  keep  them.  There  is  no  good  wife  whose  tocher 
does  not  follow  her." 

lie  was  now  in  good  circumstances,  indeed  wealthy, 
lie  had  gold  and  silver,  as  well  as  cattle  and  slice]).  He 


304  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

went  about  with  his  gun  and  dogs  hunting  every  day, 
and  was  a  great  man.  It  occurred  to  him  one  day  that 
he  would  go  to  invite  the  King  of  Erin  to  dinner,  but  he 
did  not  tell  his  wife  that  he  was  going.  His  first  vow 
was  now  broken.  He  sped  away  to  the  King  of  Erin,  and 
invited  him  and  his  great  court  to  dinner.  The  King  of 
Erin  said  to  him,  "  Do  you  intend  to  take  away  the  cattle 
that  I  promised  you  ?  " 

"  Oh !  no,  King  of  Erin,'  said  O'Croiiicert ;  "  I  could 
give  you  as  many  to-day." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  king,  "  how  well  you  have  got  on  since 
I  saw  you  last !  " 

"  I  have  indeed,"  said  O'Cronicert !  "  I  have  fallen  in 
with  a  rich  wife  who  had  plenty  of  gold  and  silver,  and 
of  cattle  and  sheep." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  the  King  of  Erin. 

O'Cronicert  said,  "  I  shall  feel  much  obliged  if  you  will 
go  with  me  to  dinner,  yourself  and  your  great  court." 

"  We  will  do  so  willingly,"  said  the  king. 

They  went  with  him  on  that  same  day.  It  did  not 
occur  to  O'Cronicert  how  a  dinner  could  be  prepared  for 
the  king  without  his  wife  knowing  that  he  was  coining. 
When  they  were  going  on,  and  had  reached  the  place 
where  O'Cronicert  had  met  the  deer,  he  remembered  that 
his  vow  was  broken,  and  he  said  to  the  king,  "  Excuse 
me  ;  I  am  going  on  before  to  the  house  to  tell  that  you 
are  coming." 

The  king  said,  "  We  will  send  off  one  of  the  lads." 

"  You  will  not,"  said  O'Cronicert ;  "  no  lad  will  serve 
the  purpose  so  well  as  myself." 

He  set  off  to  the  house  ;  and  when  he  arrived  his  wife 
was  diligently  preparing  dinner.  He  told  her  what  he 
had  done,  and  asked  her  pardon.  "I  pardon  you  this 
time,"  said  she  :  "  I  know  what  you  have  done  as  well  as 
you  do  yourself.  The  first  of  your  vows  is  broken." 

The  king  and  his  great  court  came  to  O'Cronicert's 
house ;  and  the  wife  had  everything  ready  for  them  as 
befitted  a  king  and  great  people  ;  every  kind  of  drink  and 
food.  They  spent  two  or  three  days  and  nights  at  dinner, 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LEG.  305 

eating  and  drinking.  They  were  praising  the  dinner 
highly,  and  O'Cronicert  himself  was  praising  it  •,  but  his 
wife  was  not.  O'Cronicert  was  angry  that  she  was  not 
praising  it  and  lie  went  and  struck  her  in  the  mouth  with 
his  list  and  knocked  out  two  of  her  teeth.  "Why  are  you 
not  praising  the  dinner  like  the  others,  you  contemptible 
deer  ?"  said  he. 

"I  am  not,"  said  she:  "I  have  seen  my  father's  big 
dogs  having  a  better  dinner  than  you  are  giving  to-night 
to  the  King  of  Erin  and  his  court/1 

O'Cronicert  got  into  such  a  rage  that  he  went  outside 
of  the  door.  He  was  not  long  standing  there  when  a, 
man  came  riding  on  a  black  horse,  who  in  passing  caught 
O'Cronicert  by  the  collar  of  his  coat,  and  took  him  up 
behind  him  :  and  they  set  off.  The  rider  did  not  say  a 
word  to  O'Cronicert.  The  horse  was  going  so  swiftly 
that  O'Cronicert  thought  the  wind  would  drive  his  head 
off.  They  arrived  at  a  big,  big  palace,  and  came  off  the 
black  horse.  A  stableman  came  out,  and  caught  the 
h:>rse,  and  took  it  in.  It  was  with  wine  that  lie  was 
cleaning  the  horse's  feet.  The  rider  of  the  black  horse 
said  to  O'Cronicert,  "Taste  the  wine  to  see  if  it  is  better 
than  the  wine  that  you  are  giving  to  Brian  Born  and  his 
court  to-night." 

O'Cronicert  tasted  the  wine,  and  said,  "This  is  better 
wine." 

The  rider  of  the  black  horse  said,  "  How  unjust  was 
the  fist  a  little  ago  !  The  wind  from  your  fist  carried  the 
two  teeth  to  me." 

He  then  took  him  into  that  big,  handsome,  and  noble 
house,  and  into  a  room  that  was  full  of  gentlemen  eating 
and  drinking,  and  he  seated  him  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
and  gave  him  wine  to  drink,  and  said  to  him, "  Taste  that 
wine  to  see  if  it  is  better  than  the  wine  that  you  arc; 
giving  to  the  King  of  Erin  and  his  court  to-night." 

u  This  is  better  wine,"  said  O'Cronicert. 

"  How  unjust  was  the  fist  a  little  ago  !  "  said  the  rider 
of  the  black  horse. 

20 


300  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

When  all  was  over  the  rider  of  the  black  horse  said, 
«k  Are  you  willing  to  return  home  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  O'Cronicert,  "  very  willing." 

They  then  rose,  and  went  to  the  stable  :  and  the  black 
horse  was  taken  out ;  and  they  leaped  on  its  back,  and 
went  away.  The  rider  of  the  black  horse  said  to  O'Croni 
cert,  after  they  had  set  off,  "  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  said  O'Cronicert. 

"  I  am  a  brother-in-law  of  yours,"  said  the  rider  of  the 
black  horse;  and  though  my  sister  is  married  to  you 
there  is  not  a  king  or  knight  in  Erin  who  is  a  match  for  her. 
Two  of  your  vows  are  now  broken  ;  and  if  you  break  the 
other  vow  you  shall  lose  your  wife  and  all  that  you  possess." 

They  arrived  at  O'Cronicert's  house  ;  and  O'Cronicert 
said,  "  I  am  ashamed  to  go  in,  as  they  do  not  know  where 
I  have  been  since  night  came." 

"  Hoo  ! "  said  the  rider,  "  they  have  not  missed  you  at 
all.  There  is.  so  much  conviviality  among  them,  that 
they  have  not  suspected  that  you  have  been  anywhere. 
Here  are  the  two  teeth  that  you  knocked  out  of  the  front 
of  your  wife's  mouth.  Put  them  in  their  place,  and  they 
will  be  as  strong  as  ever." 

"  Come  in  with  me,"  said  O'Cronicert  to  the  rider  of 
the  black  horse. 

"I  will  not:  I  disdain  to  go  in,"  said  the  rider  of  the 
black  horse. 

The  rider  of  the  black  horse  bade  O'Cronicert  good 
bye,  and  went  away. 

O'Cronicert  went  in  ;  and  his  wife  met  him  as  she  was 
busy  waiting  011  the  gentlemen.  He  asked  her  pardon, 
and  put  the  two  teeth  in  the  front  of  her  mouth,  and  they 
were  as  strong  as  ever.  She  said,  "Two  of  your  vows 
are  now  broken."  No  one  look  notice  of  him  when  he 
went  in,  or  said  "  Where  have  you  been?"  They  spent 
the  night  in  eating  and  drinking,  and  the  whole  of  the 
next  day. 

In  the  evening  the  king  said,  "  I  think  that  it  is  time 
'••!  '.'  '••>  hf  going,"  and  all  :.;airl  that  il  vra...  O'Croni- 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LEG.  307 

cert  said,  "  You  will  not  go  to-night.  I  am  going  to  get 
up  a  dance.  You  will  go  to-morrow." 

"  Let  them  go,'1  said  his  wife. 

"  I  will  not,"  said  he. 

The  dance  was  set  a-going  that  night.  They  were 
playing  away  at  dancing  and  music  till  they  became 
Avarm  and  hot  with  perspiration.  They  were  going  out 
one  after  another  to  cool  themselves  at  the  side  of  the 
house.  They  all  went  out  except  O'Cronieert  and  his 
wife,  and  a  man  called  Kayn  Mac  Loy.  O'Cronieert  him 
self  went  out,  and  left  his  wife  and  Kayn  Mac  Loy  in  the 
house,  and  when  she  saw  that  he  had  broken  bis  third 
vow  she  gave  a  spring  through  a  room,  and  became  a  big 
tilly,  and  gave  Kayn  Mac  Loy  a  kick  with  her  foot,  and 
broke  his  thigh  in  two.  She  gave  another  spring,  and 
smashed  the  door  and  went  away,  and  was  seen  no  more. 
She  took  with  her  the  Tower  of  Castle  Town  as  an  arm 
ful  on  her  shoulder  and  a  light  burden  on  her  back,  and 
she  left  Kayn  Mac  Loy  in  the  old  tumble-down  black  house 
in  a  pool  of  rain-drip  on  the  Moor. 

At  daybreak  next  day  poor  OVronicert  could  only  sec 
the  old  house,  that  he  had  before.  Neither  cattle  nor 
sheep,  nor  any  of  the  fine  things  that  he  had  was  to  be 
seen.  One  awoke  in  the  morning  beside  a  bush,  another 
beside  a  dyke,  and  another  beside  a  ditch.  The  king 
only  had  the  honor  of  having  O'Cronicert's little  hut  over 
his  head.  As  they  were  leaving,  Murdoch  Mac  Brian  re 
membered  that  he  had  left  his  own  foster-brother  Kayn 
Mac  Loy  behind,  and  said  there  should  be  no  separation 
in  life  between  them  and  that  he  would  go  back  for  him. 
lie  found  Kayn  in  the  old  tumble-down  black  bouse,  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  in  a  pool  of  rain-wafer,  with  his 
leg  broken;  and  he  said  the  earth  should  make  a  nest  in 
his  sole  and  the  sky  a  nest  in  his  head  if  he  did  not  find 
a  man  to  cure  Kayn's  leg. 

They  told  him  that  on  the  Tsle  of  Tnnistnrk  \vas  a  herb 
that  would  heal  him. 

Ho  Kayn  Mar   L-'-y    ^a^  then   borne   3 way,  and  ?,erjt  to 


308  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  island,  and  lie  was  supplied  with  as  much  food  as 
would  keep  him  for  a  month,  and  with  two  crutches  on 
which  he  would  be  going  out  and  in  as  he  might  desire.  At 
last  the  food  was  spent,  and  he  was  destitute,  and  he  had 
not  found  the  herb.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  going  down 
to  the  shore,  and  gathering  shell-fish,  and  eating  it. 

As  he  was  one  day  on  the  shore,  he  saw  a  big,  big  man 
landing  on  the  island,  and  he  could  see  the  earth  and  the 
sky  between  his  legs.  He  set  oft'  with  the  crutches  to  try 
if  he  could  get  into  the  hut  before  the  big  man  would 
come  upon  him.  Despite  his  efforts,  the  big  man  was 
between  him  and  the  door,  and  said  to  him,  "  Unless  you 
deceive  me,  you  are  Kayn  Mac  Loy." 

Kay n  Mac  Loy  said,  "  I  have  never  deceived  a  man :  I 
am  he." 

The  big  man  said  to  him  : 

"Stretch  out  your  leg,  Kayn,  till  I  put  a  salve  of  herbs  and 
healing  to  it.  Salve  and  binding  herb  and  the  poultice  are  cool 
ing  ;  the  worm  is  channering.  Pressure  and  haste  hard  bind 
me,  for  I  must  hear  Mass  in  the  great  church  at  Rome,  and  be 
in  Norway  before  I  sleep. 

Kayn  Mac  Loy  said  : 

"  May  it  be  no  foot  to  Kayn  or  a  foot  to  any  one  after  one,  or 
I  be  Kayn  the  son  of  Loy,  if  I  stretch  out  my  foot  for  you  to  put 
a  salve  of  herbs  and  healing  on  it.  till  you  tell  me  why  you  have 
no  church  of  your  own  in  Norway,  so  as,  as  now,  to  be  going  to  the 
great  church  of  Rome  to  Rome  to-morrow. 

Unless  you  deceive  me  you  are  Machkan-an-Atliar,  the 
son  of  the  King  of  Lochlann." 

The  big  man  said,  "  I  have  never  deceived  any  man  :  I 
am  hi.1,  F  am  now  going  to  tell  you  why  we  have  not  a 
church  in  Lochlann.  Seven  masons  came  to  build  a 
church,  and  they  and  my  father  were  bargaining  about 
tin-  building  of  it.  The  agreement  that  the  masons 
wanted  was  that  my  mother  and  sister  would  go  to  see 
the  interior  of  the  church  when  it  would  b?  finish  e-d.-  My 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LEG. 


309 


father  was  glad  to  get  the  ehurch  built  so  cheaply.  They 
agreed  accordingly  ;  and  the  masons  went  in  the  morning 
to  the  place  where  the  church  was  to  be  built.  ]\ly  father 
pointed  out  the  spot  for  the  foundation.  They  began  to 
build  in  the  morning,  and  the  church  was  finished  before 
the  evening.  When  it  was  finished  they  requested  my 
mother  and  sister  to  go  to  see  its  interior.  They  had  no 
sooner  entered  than  the  doors  were  shut ;  and  the  church 
went  away  into  the  skies  in  the  form  of  a  tuft  of  mist. 


Stretch  out  your  leg,  Kayn,  till  I  put  a  salve  of  herbs  and  heal 
ing  to  it.  Salve  and  binding  herb  and  the  poultice  are  cooling  ; 
the  worm  is  channeling.  Pressure  and  haste  hard  bind  me,  for 
I  must  hear  Mass  in  the  great  church  at  Rome,  and  be  in  Norway 
before  I  sleep. 

Kayn  Mac  Loy  said  : 

"  May  it  be  no  foot  to  Kayn  or  a  foot  to  any  one  after  one,  or  I 
be  Kayn  son  of  Loy,  if  I  stretch  out  my  foot  for  you  to  put  a 
salve  of  herbs  and  healing  on  it.  till  you  tell  me  if  you  heard  what 
befell  your  mother  and  sister." 


310  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"Ah  !"  said  the  big  man,  "the  mischief  is  upon  you; 
that  tale  is  long  to  tell ;  but  I  will  tell  you  a  short  tale 
about  the  matter.  On  the  day  on  which  they  were  work 
ing  ut  the  church  I  Avas  away  in  the  hill  hunting  game  ; 
and  when  I  came  home  in  the  evening  my  brother  told  me 
what  had  happened,  namely,  that  my  mother  and  sister 
had  gone  away  in  the  form  of  a  tuft  of  mist.  I  became 
so  cross  and  angry  that  I  resolved  to  destroy  the  world 
till  I  should  rind  out  where  my  mother  and  sister  were. 
My  brother  said  to  me  that  I  was  a  fool  to  think  of  such 
a  thing.  '  I'll  tell  you,'  said  he,  *  what  you'll  do.  You 
will  first  go  to  try  to  find  out  where  they  are.  AVhen  you 
find  out  where  they  are  you  will  demand  them  peaceably, 
and  if  you  do  not  get  them  peaceably  you  will  fight  for 
them.' 

"  I  took  my  brother's  advice,  and  prepared  a  ship  to  set 
oft'  with.  I  set  off  alone,  and  embraced  the  ocean.  I  was 
overtaken  by  a  great  mist,  and  I  came  upon  an  island,  and 
there  was  a  large  number  of  ships  at  anchor  near  it ;  I 
Avent  in  amongst  them,  and  went  ashore.  I  saw  there  a 
big,  big  woman  reaping  rushes ;  and  when  she  would 
raise  her  head  she  would  throw  her  right  breast  over  her 
shoulder  and  when  she  would  bend  it  Avould  fall  down  be 
tween  her  legs.  I  came  once  behind  her,  and  caught,  the 
breast  Avith  my  mouth,  and  said  to  her,  '  Y"ou  are  yourself 
Avitness,  Avoman,  that  I  am  the  foster-son  of  your  right 
breast.'  i  I  perceive  that,  great  hero,'  said  the  old  woman, 
<  but  my  advice  to  you  is  to  leave  this  island  as  fast  as  you 
can.'  4  Why  ? '  said  I.  *  There  is  a  big  giant  in  the  cave 
up  there,'  said  she,  4  and  every  one  of  the  ships  that  you 
see  he  has  taken  in  from  the  ocean  Avith  his  breath,  and 
he  has  killed  and  eaten  the  men.  He  is  asleep  at  present, 
and  Avhen  he  Avakens  he  Avill  have  you  in  a  similar  manner. 
A  large  iron  door  and  an  oak  door  are  on  the  cave.  When 
the  giant  draAvs  in  his  breath  the  doors  open,  and  when 
he  emits  his  breath  the  doors  shut ;  and  they  are  shut  as 
fast  as  though  seven  small  bars,  and  seven  large  bars,  and 
seven  locks  were  on  them.  So  fast  are  they  that  seven 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LE(J.  311 

crowbars  could  not  force  them  open.'  I  said  to  the  old 
woman,  4  Is  there  any  way  of  destroying  him?'  '  I'll  tell 
you,1  said  she,  'how  it  can  be  done.  lie  has  a  weapon 
above  the  door  that  is  called  the  short  spear  :  and  if  you 
succeed  in  taking  oft'  his  head  with  the  first  blow  it  will 
be  well ;  but  if  you  do  not,  the  case  will  be  worse  than  it 
was  at  first.' 

"  1  set  off,  and  reached  the  cave,  the  two  doors  of  which 
opened.  The  giant's  breath  drew  me  into  the  cave  ;  and 
stools,  chairs,  and  pots  were  by  its  action  dashing  against, 
each  other,  and  like  to  break  mv  legs.  The  door  shut 
when  I  went  in,  and  was  shut  as  fast  as  though  seven 
small  bars,  and  seven  large  bars,  and  seven  locks  were  on 
it ;  and  seven  crowbars  could  not  force  it  open  ;  and  I  was 
a  prisoner  in  the  cave.  The  giant  drew  in  his  breath 
again,  and  the  doors  opened.  I  gave  a  look  upwards, and 
saw  the  short  spear,  and  laid  hold  of  it.  I  drew  the  short 
spear,  and  I  warrant  you  that  I  dealt  him  such  a  blow  with 
it  as  did  not  require  to  be  repeated;  I  swept  the  head  off 
hi.n,  I  took  the  head  down  to  the  old  woman,  who  was 
reaping  the  rushes,  and  said  to  her,  'There  is  the  giant's 
head  for  you/  The  old  woman  said,  '  Brave  man  !  I 
knew  that  you  were  a  hero.  This  island  had  need  of  your 
coming  to  it  to-day.  Unless  you  deceive1  me,  you  are 
.Mac  Connachar  son  of  the  King  of  Loehlann.'  '  I  have 
never  deceived  a  man.  I  am  he,'  said  I.  '  I  am  a  sooth 
sayer,'  said  she,  'and  know  the  object  of  your  journey. 
You  are  going  in  quest  of  your  mother  and  sister.'  4  Well,' 
said  I,  '  I  am  so  far  on  the  way  if  I  only  knew  where  to 
go  for  them.'  I'll  tell  you  where  they  are,' said  she; 
'they  are  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Red  Shield, and  the  King 
of  the  Red  Shield  is  resolved  to  marry  your  mother,  and 
his  son  is  resolved  to  marry  your  sister.  I'll  tell  you  how 
the  town  is  situated.  A  canal  of  seven  times  seven  paces 
breadth  surrounds  it.  On  the  canal  there  is  a  drawbridge, 
which  is  guarded  during  the  day  by  two  creatures  that  no 
weapon  can  pierce,  as  they  are  covered  all  over  with  scales, 
except  two  spots  below  the  neck  in  which  their  death- 


312  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

wounds  lie.  Their  names  are  Roar  and  Rustle.  When 
night  comes  the  bridge  is  raised,  and  the  monsters  sleep. 
A  very  high  and  big  wall  surrounds  the  king's  palace.' 

"  Stretch  out  your  leg,  till  I  put  a  salve  of  herbs  and  healing  to 
it  .  Salve  and  binding  herb  and  the  poultice  are  cooling ;  the 
worm  is  channering.  Pressure  and  haste  hard  bind  me,  for  I  must 
hear  Mass  in  the  great  church  at  Rome,  and  be  in  Norway  before 
I  sleep. 

Kayn  Mac  Loy  said : 

"  May  it  be  no  foot  to  Kayn  or  a  foot  to  any  one  after  one,  or  I 
be  Kayn  son  of  Loy,  if  I  stretch  out  my  foot  for  you  to  put  a 
salve  of  herbs  and  healing  on  it,  till  you  tell  me  if  you  went 
farther  in  search  of  your  mother  and  sister,  or  if  you  returned 
home,  or  what  befell  you." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  big  man,  "  the  mischief  is  upon  you ; 
that  tale  is  long  to  tell ;  but  I  will  tell  you  another  tale. 
I  set  off,  and  reached  the  big  town  of  the  Red  Shield ;  and 
it  was  surrounded  by  a  canal,  as  the  old  woman  told  me  ; 
and  there  was  a  drawbridge  on  the  canal.  It  was  night 
when  I  arrived,  and  the  bridge  was  raised,  and  the  mon 
sters  were  asleep.  I  measured  two  feet  before  me  and  a 
foot  behind  me  of  the  ground  on  which  I  was  standing, 
and  I  sprang  on  the  end  of  my  spear  and  on  my  tiptoes, 
and  reached  the  place  where  the  monsters  were  asleep ; 
and  I  drew  the  short  spear,  and  I  warrant  you  that  I  dealt 
them  such  a  blow  below  the  neck  as  did  not  require  to  be 
repeated.  I  took  up  the  heads  and  hung  them  on  one  of 
the  posts  of  the  bridge.  I  then  went  on  to  the  wall  that 
surrounded  the  king's  palace.  This  wall  was  so  high  that 
it  was  not  easy  for  me  to  spring  over  it ;  and  I  set  to  work 
with  the  short  spear,  and  dug  a  hole  through  it,  and  got 
in.  I  went  to  the  door  of  the  palace  and  knocked ;  and 
the  doorkeeper  called  out,  '  Who  is  there  ? '  i  It  is  I,'  said 
I.  My  mother  and  sister  recognized  my  speech ;  and  my 
mother  called,  <  Oh  !  it  is  my  son ;  let  him  in.'  I  then 
got  in,  and  they  rose  to  meet  me  with  great  joy.  I  was 
supplied  with  food,  drink,  and  a  good  bed.  In  the  morn- 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LEG.  313 

ing  breakfast  was  set  before  us ;  and  after  it  I  said  to  my 
mother  and  sister  that  they  had  better  make  ready,  and 
go  with  me.  The  King  of  the  Red  Shield  said,  '  it  shall 
not  be  so.  I  am  resolved  to  marry  your  mother,  and  my 
son  is  resolved  to  marry  your  sister.'  '  If  you  wish  to 
marry  my  mother,  and  if  your  son  wishes  to  marry  my 


sister,  let  both  of  you  accompany  me  to  my  home,  and  you 
shall  get  them  there.'  The  King  of  the  Red  Shield  said, 
4  So  be  it.' 

"We  then  set  off,  and  came  to  where  my  ship  was, 
went  on  board  of  it,  and  sailed  home.  When  we  were 
passing  a  place  where  a  great  battle  was  going  on,  I  asked 
the  King  of  the  Red  Shield  what  battle  it  was,  and  the 
cause  of  it.  '  Don't  you  know  at  all '? '  said  the  King  of 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  Red  Shield.  'T  do  not,'  said  I.  The  King  of  the 
lied  Shield  said,  <  That  is  the  battle  for  the  daughter  of 
the  King  of  the  Great  Universe,  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  the  world ;  and  whoever  wins  her  by  his  heroism  shall 
get  her  in  marriage.  Do  you  see  yonder  castle  ? '  '  I  do,' 
said  I.  '  She  is  on  the  top  of  that  castle,  and  sees  from 
it  the  hero  that  wins  her,'  said  the  King  of  the  Red 
Shield.  I  requested  to  be  put  on  shore,  that  I  might  win 
her  by  my  swiftness  and  strength,  They  put  me  on  shore ; 
and  I  got  a  sight  of  her  on  the  top  of  the  castle.  Having 
measured  two  feet  behind  me  and  a  foot  before  me,  I 
sprang  on  the  end  of  my  spear  and  on  my  tiptoes,  and 
reached  the  top  of  the  castle ;  and  I  caught  the  daughter 
of  the  King  of  the  Universe  in  my  arms  and  flung  her 
over  the  castle,  I  was  with  her  and  intercepted  her  be 
fore  she  reached  the  ground,  and  I  took  her  away  on  my 
shoulder,  and  set  off  to  the  shore  as  fast  as  I  could,  and 
delivered  her  to  the  King  of  the  Red  Shield  to  be  put  on 
board  the  ship.  Am  1  not  the  best  warrior  that  ever 
sought  you?  said  I.  '  You  can  jump  well '  said  she,  'but 
I  have  not  seen  any  of  your  prowess.'  I  turned  back  to 
meet  the  warriors,  and  attacked  them  with  the  short 
spear,  and  did  not  leave  a  head  on  a  neck  of  any  of  them. 
I  yien  returned,  and  called  to  the  King  of  the  Red  Shield 
to  come  in  to  the  shore  for  me.  Pretending  not  to  hear 
me,  he  set  the  sails  in  order  to  return  home  with  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Great  Universe,  and  marry 
her.  I  measured  two  feet  behind  me  and  a  foot  before 
me,  and  sprang  on  the  end  of  my  spear  and  on  my  tiptoes 
and  got  on  board  the  ship.  I  then  said  to  the  King  of 
the  Red  Shield,  4  What  were  you  going  to  do  ?  Why'  did 
you  not  wait  for  me  ?  '  '  Oh  ! '  said  the  king,  '  I  was  only 
making  the  ship  ready  and  setting  the  sails  to  her  before 
going  on  shore  for  you.  Do  you  know  what  I  am  think 
ing  of?'  '  I  do  not,'  said  I.  '  It  is,'  said  the  King,  4  that 
I  will  return  home  with  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Great  Universe,  and  that  you  shall  go  home  with  your 
mother  and  sister.'  'That  is  not  to  be  the  way  of  it," 


THE  LELH'HlXfJ  OF  KAYX'S  LKU.  ,°>15 

said  I.     '  She  whom  I  have  won  by  my  prowess  neither 
you  nor  any  other  shall  get.' 

uThe  king  had  a  red  shield,  and  if  he  should  get  it  on, 
no  weapon  could  make  an  impression  on  him.  lie  began. 
to  put  on  the  red  shield,  and  I  struck  him  with  the  short 
spear  in  the  middle  of  his  body,  and  cut  him  in  two,  and 
threw  him  overboard.  I  then  struck  the  son,  and  swept 
his  head  olf,  and  threw  him  overboard. 

"  Stret'-h  out  your  leg.  Kayn,  till  I  put  a  salve  of  herbs  and  heal 
ing  to  it.  Salve  and  binding  herb  and  the  poultice  are  cooling; 
the  worm  is  channering.  Pressure  and  haste  hard  bind  me,  for 
I  must  hear  Mass  in  the  great  church  at  Rome,  and  be  in  Norway 
before  I  sleep. 

Kayn  Mac  Loy  said  : 

"  May  it  bo  no  foot  to  Kayn  or  a  foot  to  any  one  after  one,  or 
T  be  Kayn  son  of  Loy.  if  I  stretch  out  my  foot  for  you  to  put  a 
salve  of  herbs  and  healing  on  it.  till  you  tell  me  whether  any  search 
was  made  for  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  the  Universe. 

"  Ah  !  the  mischief  is  upon  you,"1  said  the  big  man;  "  I 
will  tell  you  another  short  tale.  I  came  home  with  my 
mother  and  sister,  and  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
I  "inverse,  and  I  married  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Universe.  The  first  son  I  had  I  named  Machkan-na- 
skaya-jayrika  (son  of  the  red  shield).  Not  long  after  this 
a  hostile  force  came  to  enforce  compensation  for  the  King 
of  the  Red  Shield,  and  a  hostile  force  came  from  the  King 
of  the  Universe  to  enforce  compensation  for  the  daughter 
of  the  King  of  the  Universe.  I  took  the  daughter  of  the 
King  of  the  Universe  with  me  on  the  one  shoulder  and 
Machkan-na-skaya-jayrika  on  the  other,  and  I  went  on 
hoard  the,  ship  and  set  the  sails  to  her,  and  T  placed  the 
ensign  of  the  King  of  the  Great  T  "inverse  on  the  one  mast, 
and  that  of  the  King  of  the  Ked  Shield  on  the  other,  and 
T  blew  a  trumpet,  and  passed  through  the  midst  of  them, 
and  T  said  to  them  that  here  was  the  man,  and  that  if  they 


31  ft  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

were  going  to  enforce  their  claims,  tins  was  the  time.  All 
the  ships  that  were  there  chased  me ;  and  we  set  out  on 
the  expanse  of  ocean.  My  ship  would  be  equalled  in 
speed  by  but  few.  One  day  a  thick  dark  mist  came  on, 
and  they  lost  sight  of  me.  It  happened  that  I  came  to 
tin  island  called  The  Wet  Mantle.  I  built  a  hut  there ; 
and  another  son  was  born  to  me,  and  I  called  him  Son  of 
the  Wet  Mantle. 

"  I  was  a  long  time  in  that  island ;  but  there  was 
enough  of  fruit,  fish,  and  birds  in  it.  My  two  sons  had 
grown  to  be  somewhat  big.  As  I  was  one  day  out  kill 
ing  birds,  I  saw  a  big,  big  man  coming  towards  the  island, 
and  I  ran  to  try  if  I  could  get  into  the  house  before  him. 
lie  met  me,  and  caught  me,  and  put  me  into  a  bog  up  to 
the  armpits,  and  he  Aveiit  into  the  house,  and  took  out  on 
his  sliQiilder  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Universe, 
and  passed  close  to  me  in  order  to  irritate  me  the  more. 
The  saddest  look  that  I  ever  gave  or  ever  shall  give  was 
that  T  gave  when  T  saw  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Universe  on  the  shoulder  of  another,  and  could  not  take 
her  from  him.  The  boys  came  out  where  I  was ;  and  I 
bade  them  bring  me  the  short  spear  from  the  house. 
They  dragged  the  short  spear  after  them,  and  brought  it 
to  me  ;  and  I  cut  the  ground  around  me  with  it  till  I  got 
out. 

"  I  was  a  long  time  in  the  Wet  Mantle,  even  till  my 
two  sons  grew  to  be  big  lads.  They  asked  me  one  day*  if 
I  had  any  thought  of  going  to  seek  their  mother.  I  told 
them  that  I  was  waiting  till  they  were  stronger,  and  that, 
they  should  then  go  with  me.  They  said  they  were 
ready  to  go  with  me  at  any  time.  I  said  to  them  that 
we  had  better  get  the  ship  ready,  and  go.  They  said,  '  Let 
each  of  us  have  a  ship  to  himself.'  We  arranged  accord 
ingly  ;  and  each  went  his  own  way. 

"  As  I  happened  one  day  to  be  passing  close  to  land  I 
saw  a  great  battle  going  on.  Being  under  vows  never  to 
pass  a  battle  without  helping  the  weaker  side,  T  went  on 
shore,  and  set  to  work  with  the  weaker  side,  and  I  knocked 


THE  LEECTlIXt;  OF  KAYX'S  LEfJ.  .'>!  7 

the  head  off  every  one  willi  the  short  spear.      Being  tired, 
I  lay  myself  down  among  the  bodies  and  fell  asleep. 

"Stretch  out  your  leg.  Kayn,  till  I  put  a  salve  of  herbs  and 
healing  to  it.  Salve  and  binding  lierb  and  the  poultice  are  cool- 
ling  ;  the  worm  is  channering.  Pressure  and  haste  hard  bind 
me,  for  I  must  hear  Mass  in  the  great  church  at  Rome,  and  be  in 
Norway  before  I  sleep. 

Kayn  Mac  Loy  said  : 


"  May  it  be  no  foot  to  Kayn  or  a  foot  to  any  one  after  one,  or 
I  be  Kayn  son  of  Loy,  if  I  stretch  out  my  foot  for  you  to  put  a 
salve  of  herbs  and  healing  on  it,  till  you  tell  me  if  you  found  the 
daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Universe,  or  if  you  went  home,  or 
wliat  happened  to  you." 

"The  mischief  is  upon  you,"  said  the  big  man;  that 
tale  is  long  to  tell,  but  T  will  tell  another  short  tale. 
When  I  awoke  out  of  sleep  I  saw  a  ship  making'  for  the 
place  where  I  was  lying,  and  a  big  giant  with  only  one 
eye  dragging  it  after  him  :  and  the  ocean  reached  no 
higher  than  his  knees.  He  had  a  big  fishing-rod  with  a 


IRISH    FAIRY  TALKS. 

big  strong  line  hanging  from  it  on  which  was  a  very  big 
hook.  He  was  throwing  the  line  ashore,  and  fixing  the 
hook  in  a  body,  and  lifting  it  on  board,  and  he  continued 
this  work  till  the  ship  was  loaded  with  bodies.  He  fixed 
the  hook  once  in  my  clothes ;  but  I  was  so  heavy  that 
the  rod  could  not  carry  me  on  board.  He  had  to  go  on 
shore  himself,  and  carry  me  on  board  in  his  arms.  I  was 
then  in  a  worse  plight  than  I  ever  was  in.  The  giant  set 
off  with  the  ship,  which  he  dragged  after  him,  and  reached 
a  big,  precipitous  rock,  in  the  face  of  which  he  had  a  large 
cave:  and  a  damsel  as  beautiful  as  I  ever  saw  came  out, 
and  stood  in  the  door  of  the  cave.  He  was  handing  the 
bodies  to  her,  and  she  was  taking  hold  of  them  and  put 
ting  them  into  the  cave.  As  she  took  hold  of  each  body 
she  said,  4  Are  you  alive?'  At  last  the  giant  took  hold  of 
mo,  and  handed  me  in  to  her,  and  said,  4  Keep  him  apart ; 
lie  is  a  large  body,  and  I  will  have  him  to  breakfast  the 
first  day  that  I  go  from  home.'  My  best  time  was  not 
when  I  heard  the  giant's  sentence  upon  me.  When  he 
hud  eaten  enough  of  the  bodies,  his  dinner  and  supper,  he 
lay  down  to  sleep.  When  he  began  to  snore  the  damsel 
came  to  speak  to  me ;  and  she  told  me  that  she  was  a 
king's  daughter  the  giant  had  stolen  away  and  that  she 
had  no  way  of  getting  away  from  him.  'I  am  now,'  she 
said,  l  seven  years  except  two  days  with  him,  and  there 
is  a  drawn  sword  between  us.  He  dared  not  come  nearer 
me  than  that  till  the  seven  years  should  expire.'  I  said 
to  her,  '  Is  there  no  way  of  killing  him ? '  'It  is  not  easy 
to  kill  him,  but  we  will  devise  an  expedient  for  killing 
him,'  said  she,  '  Look  at  that  pointed  bar  that  he  uses 
for  roasting  the  bodies.  At  dead  of  night  gather  the  em 
bers  of  the  fire  together,  and  put  the  bar  in  the  fire  till  it 
be  red.  Go,  then,  and  thrust  it  into  his  eye  with  all  your 
strength,  and  take  care  that  he  does  not  got  hold  of  you, 
for  if  he  does  he  will  mince  you  as  small  as  midges.1*  I. 
then  went  and  gathered  the  embers  together,  and  put  11 10 
bar  in  the  fire,  and  made  it  red, and  thrust  it  into  bis  eye  ; 
and  from  the  cry  that  he  g^ve  I  thought  that  the  rock 


When  the  giant  be^an  to  snore,  the  damsel  came  and  told  me  she  was  a 
kind's  daughter,  and  had  been  stolen  by  him.— Page  318. 

Iris?i  Fairy  Talcs. 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LEG.  ;n<) 

had  split.  The  giant  sprang  to  his  feet  and  chased  me 
through  the.1  cave  in  order  to  catch  me ;  and  I  picked  up 
a  stone  that  lay  on  the  floor  of  the  cave,  and  pitched  it 
into  the  sea;  and  it  made  a  plumping  noise.  The  bar 
was  sticking  in  his  eye  all  the  time.  Thinking  it  was  I 
that  had  sprung  into  the  sea,  he  rushed  to  the  mouth  of 
the  cave,  and  the  bar  struck  against  the  doorpost  of  the 
cave,  and  knocked  off  his  brain-cap.  The  giant  fell  down 
cold  and  dead,  and  the  damsel  and  I  were  seven  years  and 
seven  days  throwing  him  into  the  sea  in  pieces. 

"  I  wedded  the  damsel,  and  a  boy  was  born  to  us.  After 
seven  years  I  started  forth  again. 

"I  gave  her  a  gold  ring,  with  my  name  on  it,  for  the 
boy,  and  when  he  was  old  enough  he  was  sent  out  to  seek 
me. 

"I  then  set  off  to  the  place  where  T  fought  the  battle, 
and  found  the  short  spear  where  I  left  it;  and  I  was  very 
pleased  that  I  found  it,  and  that  the  ship  was  safe.  I 
sailed  a  day's  distance;  from  that  place,  and  entered  a 
pretiy  bay  that  was  there,  hauled  my  ship  up  above,  the 
shore,  and  erected  a  hut  there,  in  which  I  slept  at  night. 
When  I  rose  next  day  I  saw  a  ship  making  straight  for 
the  place  where  I  was.  When  it  struck  the  ground,  a 
big,  strong  champion  came  out  of  it,  and  hauled  it  up; 
and  if  it  did  not  surpass  my  ship  it  was  not  a  whit  in 
ferior  to  it;  and  I  said  to  him,  4  What  impertinent  fellow 
are  you  that  has  dared  to  haul  up  your  ship  alongside  of 
my  ship?'  'I  am  Machkaii-na-skaya-jayrika,'  said  the, 
champion,  'going  to  seek  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the, 
Universe  for  Mac  Coimaehar,  son  of  the  King  of  Loch- 
lann.'  I  saluted  and  welcomed  him,  and  said  to  him,  'I 
am  your  father :  it  is  well  that  you  have  come.'  We 
passed  the  night  cheerily  in  the  hut, 

"  When  I  arose  on  the  following  day  T  saw  another  ship 
making  straight  for  the  place  where  T  was;  and  a  big, 
strong  hero  came  out  of  it,  and  hauled  it  up  alongside  of 
our  ships ;  and  if  it  did  not  surpass  them  it  was  not  a 
whit  inferior  to  them.  "What  impertinent  fellow  arc 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

you  that  has  dared  to  haul  up  your  ship  alongside  of  our 
ships?'  said  I.  'I  am,'  said  he,  'the  son  of  the  Wet 
Mantle,  going  to  seek  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
T inverse  for  ]\Iac  Comiachar,  son  of  the  King  of  Loch- 
la  nn.'  4 1  am  your  father,  and  this  is  your  brother  :  it  is 
well  that  you  have  come,'  said  I.  We  passed  the  night 
together  in  the  hut,  my  two  sons  and  T. 

"  When  I  rose  next  day  I  saw  another  ship  coming,  and 
making  straight  for  the  place  where  I  was.  A  big,  strong 
champion  sprang  out  of  it,  and  hauled  it  up  alongside  of 
our  ships;  and  if  it  was  not  higher  than  they,  it  was  not 
lower.  I  went  down  where  he  was,  and  said  to  him, 
4  What  impertinent  fellow  are  you  that  lias  dared  to  haul 
up  your  ship  alongside  of  our  ships?'  '  I  am  the,  Son  of 
the  Wet  Mantle,'  said  he,  'going  to  seek  the  daughter  of 
the  King  of  the  Universe  for  Mac  Connachar,  sou  of  the 
King  of  Loehlann.  'Have  you  any  token  in  proof  of 
that?  '  said  I.  '  I  have,'  said  he  :  'here  is  a  ring  that  my 
mother  gave  me  at  my  father's  request.'  I  took  hold  of 
the  ring,  and  saw  my  name  on  it :  and  the  matter  was 
beyond  doubt.  I  said  to  him,  'I  am  your  father,  and  here 
are  two  half-brothers  of  yours.  We  are  now  stronger  for 
going  in  quest  of  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Uni 
verse.  Four  piles  are  stronger  than  three  piles.'  Wo 
spent  that  night  cheerily  and  comfortably  together  in  the 
hut. 

"On  the  morrow  we  met  a  soothsayer,  and  he  spoke  to 
us  :  '  You  are  going  in  quest  of  the  daughter  of  the  King 
of  the  Universe.  I  will  tell  you  where  she  is :  she  is  with 
the  Son  of  the  Blackbird. 

"Machkan-na-skaya-jayrika  then  went  and  called  for 
combat  with  a  hundred  fully  trained  heroes,  or  the  send 
ing  out  to  him  of  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Uni 
verse.  The  hundred  went  out ;  and  he  and  they  began 
on  each  other,  and  he  killed  every  one  of  them.  The  Son 
of  the  Wet  Mantle  calletl  for  combat  with  another  hun 
dred,  or  the  sending  out  of  the  daughter  of  the  King  of 
the  Universe,  lie  killed  that  hundred  with  the  short 


THE  LEECHING  OF  KAYN'S  LEG.  ;\^\ 

spear.  The  Son  of  Secret  called  for  combat  with  another 
hundred,  or  the  (laughter  of  the  King  of  the  Universe. 
lie  killed  every  one  of  these  with  the  short  spear.  I  then 
went  out  to  the  field,  and  sounded  a  challenge  on  the 
shield,  and  made  the  town  tremble.  The  Son  of  the 
Blackbird  had  not  a  man  to  send  out :  he  had  to  come  out 
himself;  and  lie  and  I  began  on  each  other,  and  I  drew 
the  short  spear,  and  swept  his  head  off.  I  then  went  into 
the  castle,  and  took  out  the  daughter  of  the  King  of  the 
Universe.  It  was  thus  that  it  fared  with  me. 

"Stretchout  your  le,^.  Kayn.  till  I  put  a  salve  of  herbs  and 
healing  to  it.  Salve  and  binding  herb  and  the  poultice  are  eool- 
in^; ;  the  worm  is  ehaiinerin^.  Pressure  and  haste  hard  hind 
me,  for  I  must  hear  ^lass  in  the  great  church  at  Koine,  and  he 
in  Norway  before  I  sleep/' 

Kayn  Mac  Loy  stretched  his  leg;  and  the  big  man  ap 
plied  to  it  leaves  of  herbs  and  healing  ;  and  it  was  healed. 
The  big  man  took  him  ashore  from  the  island,  and  allowed 
him  to  go  home  to  the  king. 

Thus  did  OVronicert  win  and  lose  a  wife,  and  thus  be 
fell  the  Leeching  of  the  leg  of  Kayn,  son  of  Loy. 
21 


THE  DEVIL. 
THE  DEMON  CAT.* 

LADY    WILDE. 

TiiEiiE  was  a  woman  in  Connemara,  the  wife  of  a  fisher 
man  ;  as  he  had  always  good  luck,  she  had  plenty  of  fish 
at  all  times  stored  away  in  the  house  ready  for  market. 
But,  to  her  great  annoyance,  she  found  that  a  great  cat 
used  to  come  in  at  night  and  devour  all  the  best  and 
finest  fish.  So  she  kept  a  big  stick  by  her,  and  determined 
to  watch. 

One  day,  as  she  and  a  woman  were  spinning  together, 
the  house  suddenly  became  quite  dark  ;  and  the  door  was 
burst  open  as  if  by  the  blast  of  the  tempest,  when  in 
walked  a  huge  black  cat,  who  went  straight  up  to  the  fire, 
then  turned  round  and  growled  at  them. 

"  Why,  surely  this  is  the  devil,"  said  a  young  girl,  who 
was  by,  sorting  fish. 

*  Ancient  Legends  of  Ireland.  In  Ireland  one  hears  much  of 
Demon  Cats.  The  father  of  one  of  the  present  editors  of  the 
Fortnightly  had  such  a  cat,  say  county  Dublin  peasantry.  One 
day  the  priest  dined  with  him,  and  objecting  to  see  a  cat  fed 
before  Christians,  said  something  over  it  that  made  it  go  up  the 
chimney  in  a  flame  of  fire.  "  I  will  have  the  law  on  you  for 
doing  such  a,  thing  to  my  cat."  said  the  father  of  the  editor. 
"  Would  you  like  to  see  your  cat  ?  "  said  the  priest.  "  I  would," 
said  he,  and  the  priest  brought  it  up,  covered  with  chains,  through 
the  hearth-rug,  straight  out  of  hell.  The  Irish  devil  does  not 
object  to  these  undignified  shapes.  The  Irish  devil  is  not  a  digni 
fied  person.  He  has  no  whiff  of  sulphureous  majesty  about  him. 
A  centaur  of  the  ragamuffin,  jeering  and  shaking  his  tatters,  at 
once  the  butt  and  terror  of  the  saints  ! 

333 


THE  DEVIL.  323 

"  I'll  teach  yon  how  to  call  me  names,"  said  the  cat ; 
and,  jumping1  at  her,  he  scratched  her  arm  till  the  blood 
came.  "There,  now,"  he  said,  "yon  will  he  more  civil 
another  time  when  a  gentleman  comes  to  see  yon."  And 
with  that  he  walked  over  to  the  door  and  shut  it  close,  to 
prevent  any  of  them  going  out,  for  the  poor  young  girl, 
while  crying  loudly  from  fright  and  pain,  had  made  a 
desperate  rush  to  get  away. 

Just  then  a  man  was  going  by,  and  hearing  the  cries, 
he  pushed  open  the  door  and  tried  to  get  in  ;  but  the  cat 
stood  on  the  threshold,  and  would  let  no  one  pass.  On 
this  the  man  attacked  him  witli  his  stick,  and  gave  him  a 
sound  blow;  the  cat,  however,  was  more  than  a  match  in 
the  ti^'lit,  for  it  flew  at  him  and  tore  his  face  and  hands  so 
badly  that  the  man  at  last  took  to  his  heels  and  ran  away 
as  fast  he  could. 

"  Now,  it's  time  for  my  dinner,"1  said  the  cat,  going  up 
to  examine  the  fish  that  was  laid  out  on  the  tables.  "  [ 
hope  the  tish  is  £>'ood  to-day.  Xo\v,  don't  disturb  me,  nor 
make  a  fuss;  I  can  help  myself."  With  that  he  jumped 
up,  and  began  to  devour  all  the  best  fish,  while1  he  growled 
at  the  woman. 

kk  Away,  out  of  this,  you  wicked  beast, "  she  cried,  giving 
it  a  Mow  with  the  tongs  that  would  have  broken  its  back, 
only  it  was  a  devil  ;  "out  of  this;  no  fish  shall  you  have 
to-day." 

I>ut  the  cat  only  grinned  at  her,  and  went  on  tearing 
and  spoiling  and  devouring  the  flsh,  evidently  not  a  bit 
the  worst;  for  the  blow.  On  this,  both  the  women  at 
tacked  it  with  sticks,  and  struck  hard  blows  enough  to 
kill  it,  on  which  the  cat  glared  at  them,  and  spit  fire; 
then,  making  a  lea}),  it  tore  their  heads  and  arms  till  the 
blood  came,  and  the  frightened  women  rushed  shrieking 
from  the  house. 

But  presently  the  mistress  returned,  carrying  with  her  a 
bottle  of  holy  water  ;  and,  looking  in,  she  saw  the  cat  still 
devouring  the  fish,  and  not  minding.  So  she  crept  over 
quietly  and  and  threw  holy  water  on  it  without  a  word. 


324  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Xo  sooner  was  this  done  than  a  dense  black  smoke  filled 
the  place,  through  which  nothing  was  seen  but  the  two 
red  eyes  of  the  cat,  burning  like  coals  of  fire.  Then  the 
smoke  gradually  cleared  away,  and  she  saw  the  body  of 
the  creature  burning  slowly  till  it  became  shriveled  and 
black  like  a  cinder,  and  finally  disappeared.  And  from 
that  time  the  fish  remained  untouched  and  safe  from 
harm,  for  the  power  of  the  evil  one  was  broken,  and  the 
demon  cat  was  seen  no  more. 


THE  LONG  SPOON.* 

PATRH  K    KENNEDY. 

THE  devil  and  the  hearth-money  collector  for  Bantry 
set  out  one  summer  morning  to  decide  a  bet  they  made 
the  night  before  over  a  jug  of  punch.  They  wanted  to 
see  which  would  have  the  best  load  at  sunset,  and  neither 
was  to  pick  up  anything  that  wasn't  offered  with  the 
good- will  of  the  giver.  They  passed  by  a  house,  and  they 
heard  the  poor  ban-a-t'yee  -f-  cry  out  to  her  lazy  daughter, 
"  Oh,  musha,  —  —  take  you  for  a  lazy  sthronsuch:}:  of  a  girl ! 
do  you  intend  to  get  up  to-day?"  "  Oh,  oh,'1  says  the 
taxman,  "  there's  a  job  for  you,  Nick."  "  Ovock,"  says 
the  other,  "  it  wasn't  from  her  heart  she  said  it ;  we  must 
pass  on."  The  next  cabin  they  were  passing,  the  woman 
was  on  the  bawnditch§  crying  out  to  her  husband  that 
was  mending  one  of  his  brogues  inside:  "Oh,  tulthrr- 
ation  to  you,  Nick  !  you  never  rung  them  pigs,  and  there 
they  are  in  the  potato  drills  rootin'  away;  the—  -run 
to  Lusk  with  them."  "  Another  windfall  for  you,"  says 
the  man  of  the  ink-horn,  but  the  old  thief  only  shook  his 

*  Legendary  Fictions  of  the  Irish  Celts. 
I  Won  inn  of  the  house. 
\  Ir.  stroinse — i.  e.,  a  lazy  thing. 

§  Ir.  bddhun — i.  e.  enclosure,  or  wall  round  a  house.  From  bu, 
cows  and  dim,  a  fortress.  Properly,  cattle-fortress, 


THE  COUNTESS  KATHLEEN  O'SHEA.  325 

horns  and  wagged  his  tail.  So  they  went  on,  and  ever 
so  many  prizes  were  offered  to  the  black  fellow  without 
him  taking  one.  Here  it  was  a  gorsoon  playing  tnarcds 
when  he  should  be  using  his  clappers  in  the  corn-Held ; 
and  then  it  was  a  lazy  drone  of  a  servant  asleep  with  his 
face  to  the  sod  when  he  ought  to  be  weeding.  No  one 
thought  of  offering  the  hearth-money  man  even  a  drink 
of  butter-milk,  and  at  last  the  sun  was  within  half  a  foot 
of  the  edge  of  Oolliagh.  They  were  just  then  passing 
Monamolin,  and  a  poor  woman  that  was  straining  her 
supper  in  a  skeeoge  outside  her  cabin-door,  seeing  tin; 
two  standing  at  the  bawn  gate,  bawled  out,  "Oh,  here's 
the  hearth-money  man  —  -  run  away  wid  him/'  "(Jot  a 
bite  at  last,"  says  Nick.  u  Oh,  no,  no!  it  wasn't  from  her 
heart,"  says  the  collector.  "  Indeed,  an1  it  was  from  the 
very  foundation-stones  it  came.  No  help  for  misfortunes  ; 
in  with  you,"  says  he,  opening  the  mouth  of  his  big  black 
bag ;  and  whether  the  devil  was  ever  after  seen  taking 
the  same  walk  or  not,  nobody  ever  laid  eyes  on  his  fellow- 
traveler  again. 


THE  COUNTESS  KATHLEEN  O'SHEA.* 

A  VERY  long  time  ago,  there  suddenly  appeared  in  old 
Ireland  two  unknown  merchants  of  whom  nobody  had 
ever  heard,  and  who  nevertheless  spoke  the  language  of 
the  country  with  the  greatest  perfection.  Their  locks 
were  black,  and  bound  round  with  gold,  and  their  gar 
ments  were  of  rare  magnificence. 

Both  seemed  of  like  age;  they  appeared  to  be  men  of 
fifty,  for  their  foreheads  were  wrinkled  and  their  beards 
tinged  with  gray. 

In  the  hostelry  where  the  pompous  traders  alighted  it 
was  sought  to  penetrate  their  designs  ;  but  in  vain  they 

*  This  was  quoted  in  a  London-Irish  newspaper.  I  am  unable 
to  find  out  the  original  source*. 


320  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

led  a  silent  and  retired  life.  And  whilst  they  stopped 
there,  they  did  nothing  but  count  over  and  over  again 
out  of  their  money-bags  pieces  of  gold,  whose  yellow 
brightness  could  be  seen  through  the  windows  of  their 
lodging. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  landlady  one  day,  "  how  is  it  that 
you  are  so  rich,  and  that,  being  able  to  succor  the  public 
misery,  you  do  no  good  works  ?  " 

"  Fair  hostess,"  replied  one  of  them,  "  we  didn't  like  to 
present  alms  to  the  honest  poor,  in  dread  we  might  be 
deceived  by  make-believe  paupers.  Let  want  knock  at 
our  door,  we  shall  open  it." 

The  following  day,  when  the  rumor  spread  that  two  rich 
strangers  had  come,  ready  to  lavish  their  gold,  a  crowd 
besieged  their  dwelling  ;  but  the  figures  of  those  who  came 
out  were  widely  different.  Some  carried  pride  in  their 
mien  ;  others  were  shame-faced. 

The  two  chapmen  traded  in  souls  for  the  demon.  The 
souls  of  the  aged  were  worth  twenty  pieces  of  gold,  not  a 
penny  more ;  for  Satan  had  had  time  to  make  his  valua 
tion.  The  soul  of  a  matron  was  valued  at  fifty,  when  she 
was  handsome,  and  a  hundred  when  she  was  ugly.  The 
soul  of  a  young  maiden  fetched  an  extravagant  sum ;  the 
freshest  and  purest  flowers  are  the  dearest. 

At  that  time  there  lived  in  the  city  an  angel  of  beauty, 
the  Countess  Kathleen  O'Shea.  She  was  the  idol  of  the 
people  and  the  providence  of  the  indigent.  As  soon  as 
she  learned  that  these  miscreants  profited  to  the  public 
misery  to  steal  away  hearts  from  God,  she  called  to  her 
butler. 

"  Patrick,"  said  she  to  him,  "  how  many  pieces  of  gold 
in  my  coffers  ?  " 

"  A  hundred  thousand." 

"  How  many  jewels  ?  " 

"  The  money's  worth  of  the  gold." 

"  How  much  property  in  castles,  forests,  and  lands  ?  " 

"  Double  the  rest." 

>'  Very  well,  Patrick ;  sell  a}l  that  is  not  gold ;  and 


THE  COUNTESS  KATHLEEN  O'SHEA.  32? 

ftie  the  account.  I  only  wish  to  keep  this  mansion  and 
the  demesne  that  surrounds  it." 

Two  days  afterwards  the  orders  of  the  pious  Kathleen 
were  executed,  and  the  treasure  wss  distributed  to  the 
poor  in  proportion  to  their  wants.  This,  says  the  tradi 
tion,  did  not  suit  the  purposes  of  the  Evil  Spirit  who 
found  no  more  souls  to  purchase.  Aided  by  an  infamous 
servant,  they  penetrated  into  the  retreat  of  the  noble 
dame,  and  purloined  from  her  the  rest  of  her  treasure. 
In  vaiii  she  struggled  with  all  her  strength  to  save  the 
contents  of  her  coffers ;  the  diabolical  thieves  were  the 
stronger.  If  Kathleen  had  been  able  to  make  the  sign  of 
the  Cross,  adds  the  legend,  she  would  have  put  them  to 
flight,  but  her  hands  were  captive.  The  larceny  was 
effected. 

Then  the  poor  called  for  aid  to  the  plundered  Kathleen, 
alas,  to  no  good:  she  was  able  to  succor  their  misery  no 
longer;  she  had  to  abandon  them  to  the  temptation. 

Meanwhile,  but  eight  days  had  to  pass  before  the  grain 
and  provender  would  arrive  in  abundance  from  the  west 
ern  lands.  Eight  such  days  were  an  age.  Eight  days  re 
quired  an  immense  sum  to  relieve  the  exigencies  of  the 
dearth,  and  the  poor  should  either  perish  in  the  agonies 
of  hunger,  or,  denying  the  holy  maxims  of  the  Gospel, 
vend,  for  base  lucre,  their  souls,  the  richest  gift  from  the 
bounteous  hand  of  the  Almighty.  And  Kathleen  hadn't 
anything,  for  she  had  given  up  her  mansion  to  the  un 
happy.  She  passed  twelve  hours  in  tears  and  mourning, 
rending  her  sun-tinted  hair,  and  bruising  her  breast,  of 
the  whiteness  of  the  lily ;  afterwards  she  stood  up  reso 
lute,  animated  by  a  vivid  sentiment  of  despair. 

She  went  to  the  traders  in  souls. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  they  said. 

"  You  buy  souls  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  few  still,  in  spite  of  you.  Isn't  that  so,  saint, 
with  the  eyes  of  sapphire  ?  " 

"  To-day  I  am  come  to  offer  you  a  bargain,"  replied 
she. 


;;L>S  IRISH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

"What?" 

"I  have  a  soul  to  sell,  but  it  is  costly." 

"  What  does  that  signify  if  it  is  precious  ?  The  soul, 
like  the  diamond,  is  appraised  by  its  transparency." 

"  It  is  mine." 

The  two  emissaries  of  Satan  started.  Their  claws  were 
clutched  under  their  gloves  of  leather ;  their  gray  eyes 
sparkled ;  the  soul,  pure,  spotless,  virginal  of  Kathleen— 
it  was  a  priceless  acquisition  ! 

"  Beauteous  lady,  how  much  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  A  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pieces  of  gold." 

"  It's  at  your  service,"  replied  the  traders,  and  they 
tendered  Kathleen  a  parchment  sealed  with  black,  which 
she  signed  with  a  shudder. 

The  sum  was  counted  out  to  her. 

As  soon  as  she  got  home  she  said  to  the  butler,  "  Here, 
distribute  this  :  with  this  money  that  I  give  you  the  poor 
can  tide  over  the  eight  days  that  remain,  and  not  one  of 
their  souls  will  be  delivered  to  the  demon." 

Afterwards  she  shut  herself  up  in  her  room,  and  gave 
orders  that  none  should  disturb  her. 

Three  days  passed ;  she  called  nobody,  she  did  not 
come  out. 

When  the  door  was  opened,  they  found  her  cold  and 
stiff ;  she  was  dead  of  grief. 

But  the  sale  of  this  soul,  so  adorable  in  its  charity,  was 
declared  null  by  the  Lord ;  for  she  had  saved  her  fellow- 
citizens  from  eternal  death. 

After  the  eight  days  had  passed,  numerous  vessels 
brought  into  famished  Ireland  immense  provisions  in 
grain.  Hunger  was  no  longer  possible.  As  to  the  traders, 
they  disappeared  from  their  hotel  without  any  one  know 
ing  what  became  of  them.  But  the  fishermen  of  the 
Blackwater  pretend  that  they  are  enchained  in  a  subter 
ranean  prison  by  order  of  Lucifer,  until  they  shall  be  able 
to  render  up  the  soul  of  Kathleen,  which  escaped  from 
them. 


THE  THREE  WISHES. 


THE  THREE  WISHES. 

W.    CAULKTOX. 

T\  ancient  tim?s  there  lived  a  man  called  Billy  Dawson, 
and  lie  was  known  to  be  a  great  rogne.  They  say  he  was 
descended  from  the  family  of  the  Dawsons,  which  was  the 
reason,  I  suppose,  of  his  carrying  their  name  upon  him. 

Hilly,  in  his  youthful  days,  was  the  best  hand  at  doing 
nothing  in  all  Europe;  devil  a  mortal  could  come  next  or 
near  him  at  idleness;  and,  in  consequence  of  his  great, 
practice  that  way,  you  may  he  sure  that  if  any  man  could 
make  a  fortune  by  it  he  would  have  done  it. 

Hilly  was  the  only  son  of  his  father,  barring  two  daugh 
ters  ;  but  they  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  story  I'm 
telling  you.  Indeed  it  was  kind  father  and  grandfather 
for  Hilly  to  be  handy  at  the  knavery  as  well  as  at  the 
idleness;  for  it  was  well  known  that  not  one  of  their 
blood  ever  did  an  honest  act,  except  with  a  roguish  in 
tention.  Tn  short,  they  were  altogether  a  <li<;  nt  connec 
tion,  and  a  credit  to  the  name.  As  for  Hilly,  all  the  vil 
lainy  of  the  family,  both  plain  and  ornamental,  came 
down  to  him  by  way  of  legacy  ;  for  it  so  happened  that 
the  father,  in  spite  of  all  his  cleverness,  had  nothing  but 
liis  roguery  to  hire  him. 

Hilly,  to  do  him  justice,  improved  the  fortune  he  got: 
every  day  advanced  him  farther  into  dishonesty  and 
poverty,  until,  at  the  long  run,  he  was  acknowledged  on 
all  hands  to  be  the  completes!-  swindler  and  the  poorest 
vagabond  in  the  whole  parish. 

Billy's  father,  in  his  young  days,  had  often  been  forced 
to  acknowledge  the  inconvenience  of  not  having  a  trade, 
in  consequence  of  some  nice  point  in  law,  called  the 
"  Vagrant  Act,"  that  sometimes  troubled  him.  On  this 


330  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

account  he  made  up  his  mind  to  give  Bill  an  occupation, 
and  he  accordingly  bound  him  to  a  blacksmith  ;  but 
whether  Bill  was  to  live  or  die  \*y  forgery  was  a  puzzle  to 
his  father, — though  the  neighbors  said  that  both  was 
most  likely.  At  all  events,  he  Avas  put  apprentice  to  a 
smith  for  seven  years,  and  a  hard  card  his  master  had  to 
play  in  managing  him.  lie  took  the  proper  method,  how 
ever,  for  Billy  was  so  lazy  and  roguish  that  it  would  vex 
a  saint  to  keep  him  in  order. 

"  Bill,"  says  his  master  to  him  one  day  that  he  had 
been  sunning  himself  about  the  ditches,  instead  of  mind 
ing  his  business,  "  Bill,  my  boy,  I'm  vexed  to  the  heart 
to  see  you  in  such  a  bad  state  of  health.  You're  very  ill 
with  that  complaint  called  an  All-overness  ;  however," 
says  he,  "  I  think  I  can  cure  you.  Nothing  will  bring 
you  about  but  three  or  four  sound  doses  every  day  of  a 
medicine  called  '  the  oil  o'  the  hazel.'  Take  the  first  dose 
now,"  says  he ;  and  he  immediately  banged  him  with  a 
hazel  cudgel  until  Bill's  bones  ached  for  a  week  after 
wards. 

"  If  you  were  my  son,"  said  his  master,  "  I  tell  you  that, 
as  long  as  I  could  get  a  piece  of  advice  growing  convenient 
in  the  hedges,  I'd  have  you  a  different  youth  from  what 
you  are.  If  working  was  a  sin,  Bill,  not  an  innocenter 
boy  ever  broke  bread  than  you  would  be.  Good  people's 
scarce,  you  think ;  but  however  that  may  be,  I  throw  it 
out  as  a  hint,  that  you  must  take  your  medicine  till  you're 
cured,  whenever  you  happen  to  get  unwell  in  the  same 
way." 

From  this  out  he  kept  Bill's  nose  to  the  grinding-stone  ; 
and  whenever  his  complaint  returned,  he  never  failed  to 
give  him  a  hearty  dose  for  his  improvement. 

In  the  course  of  time,  however,  Bill  was  his  own  man 
and  his  own  master  ;  but  it  would  puzzle  a  saint  to  know 
whether  the  master  or  the  man  was  the  more  precious 
youth  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 

He  immediately  married  a  wife,  and  devil  a  doubt  of  it, 
but  if  he  kept  her  in  whisky  and  sugar,  the  kept  him  in 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  &U 

hot  water.  Hill  drank  and  she  drank;  Bill  fought  and 
she  fought;  Bill  was  idle  and  she  was  idle  ;  Bill  whacked 
her  and  she  whaeked  Bill.  If  Bill  gave  her  one  black 
eye,  she  gave  him  another ;  jnxt  t»  k<j<>}>  herself  in  connte- 
'tutucT.  Never  was  there  a  blessed  pair  so  well  met;  and 
a  beautiful  sight  it  was  to  see  them  both  at  breakfast- 
time,  blinking  at  each  other  across  the  potato  basket,  Bill 
with  his  right  eye  black,  and  she  with  her  left. 

In  short,  they  were  the  talk  of  the  whole  town:  and  to 
see  Bill  of  a  morning  staggering  home  drunk,  his  shirt 
sleeves  rolled  up  on  his  smutted  arms,  his  breast  open, 
and  an  old  tattered  leather  apron,  with  one  corner  tucked 
up  under  his  belt  singing  one  minute,  and  lighting  with 
his  wife  the  next.  ;  she,  reeling  beside  him,  with  a  dis 
colored  eye,  as  aforesaid,  a  dirty  ragged  cap  on  one  side 
of  her  head,  a  pair  of  Bill's  old  slippers  on  her  feet,  a 
squalling  child  on  her  arm— now  cutting  and  dragging 
Bill,  and  again  kissing  and  hugging  him!  Yes,  it  was  a 
pleasant  picture  to  see  this  loving  pair  in  such  a  state! 

This  might  do  for  a  while,  but  it  could  not  last.  They 
were  idle,  drunken,  and  ill-conducted;  and  it  was  not  to 
be  supposed  that  they  would  get  a  farthing  candle  on  their 
words.  They  were,  of  course,  <f/tf"><  to  great  straits  ;  and 
faith,  they  soon  found  that  their  lighting,  and  drinking 
and  idleness  made  them  the  laughing-sport  of  the  neigh 
bors,  but  neither  brought  food  to  their  <'/>!l<f/ir<\  put  a 
coat  upon  their  backs,  nor  satisfied  their  landlord  when 
he  came  to  look  for  his  own.  Still,  the  never  a  one  of 
Bill  but  was  a  funny  fellow  with  strangers,  though,  as 
AVC  said,  the  greatest  rogue  unhanged. 

One  day  he  was  standing  against  his  own  anvil,  com 
pletely  in  a  brown  study — being  brought  to  his  wit's  end 
how  to  make  out  a  breakfast  for  the  family.  The  wife 
w<;s  scolding  and  cursing  in  the  house,  and  the  naked 
creatures  of  childhre  squalling  about  her  knees  for  food. 
Bill  was  fairly  at  aiiamplush,  and  knew  not  where  or  how 
to  turn  himself,  when  a  poor,  withered  old  beggar  came 
into  the  forge,  tottering  on  his  staff.  A  long  Avhite  beard 


FAIRY  TALES. 

fell  from  his  chin,  and  he  looked  as  thin  and  hungry  that 
you  might  blow  him,  one  would  think,  over  the  house. 
Bill  at  this  moment  had  been  brought  to  his  senses  by 
distress,  and  his  heart  had  a  touch  of  pity  towards  the 
old  man;  for,  on  looking  at  him  a  second  time,  he  (dearly 
saw  starvation  and  sorrow  in  his  face. 

"  God  save  you,  honest  man  !  "  said  Bill. 

The  old  man  gave  a  sigh,  and  raising  himself  with  great 
pain,  on  his  staff,  he  looked  at  Bill  in  a  very  beseeching 
way. 

"  Musha,  God  save  you  kindly  !  "  says  he ;  "  maybe  you 
could  give  a  poor,  hungry,  helpless  ould  man  a  mouthful 
of  something  to  ait?  You  see  yourself  Tin  not  able 
to  work  ;  if  I  was,  I'd  scorn  to  be  behoulding  to  any 
one." 

u  Faith,  honest  man,"  said  Bill,  "  if  you  knew  who 
you're  speaking  to,  you'd  as  soon  ask  a  monkey  for  a 
churn-staff  as  me  for  either  mate  or  money.  There's 
not  a  blackguard  in  the  three  kingdoms  so  fairly  on 
the  sn<itnjlu-<ni  as  I  am  for  both  the  one  and  the 
other.  The  wife  within  is  sending  the  curses  thick  and 
heavy  on  me,  and  the  childhre's  playing  the  cat's 
melody  to  keep  her  in  comfort.  Take  my  word  for 
it,  poor  man,  if  I  had  either  mate  or  money  I'd  help 
you,  for  I  know  particularly  well  what  it  is  to  want 
them  at  the  present  spaking ;  an  empty  sack  won't  stand, 
neighbor." 

So  far  Bill  told  him  truth.  The  good  thought  was  in  his 
heart,  because  lie  found  himself  011  a  footing  with  the 
beggar  ;  and  nothing  brings  down  pride,  or  softens  the 
heart,  like  feeling  what  it  is  to  want. 

"  Why,  you  are  in  a  worse  state  than  I  am,"  said  the 
old  man ;  "  you  have  a  family  to  provide  for,  and  I  hav3 
only  myself  to  support." 

"  You  may  kiss  the  book  on  that,  my  old  worthy,"  ve- 
plied  Bill ;  "  but  come,  what  I  can  do  for  you  I  will ;  plant 
yourself  up  here  beside  the  fire,  and  I'll  give  it  a  blast  or 
two  of  mv  bellows  that  will  warm  the  old  blood  in  your 


TIIK  TIIKKH  WISHKS.  3ftf 

body.  It's  a  cold,  miserable,  snowy  day,  and  a  good  heat 
will  be  of  service.'1 

"Thank  you  kindly,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  T  <nn  cold,  and 
a  warming  at  your  tire  will  do  me  good,  sure  enough.  Oh, 
it  is  a  bitter,  bitter  day  ;  (rod  bless  it !  " 

lie  then  sat  down,  and  Bill  blew  a  rousing  blast  that 
soon  made  the  stranger  edge  back  from  the  heat.  In  a 
short  time  he  felt  quite  comfortable,  and  when  the  numb 
ness  was  taken  out  of  his  joints,  he  buttoned  himself  up 
and  prepared  to  depart. 

"Now,"  says  he  to  Bill,  "you  hadn't  the  food  to  give 
me,  but  ir/n(t  t/oi/.  coulil  I/OH.  <li<l.  Ask  any  three  wishes 
you  choose,  and  be  they  what  they  may,  take  my  word 
for  it,  they  shall  be  granted." 

Now,  the  truth  is,  that  Bill,  though  he  believed  himself 
a  great  man  in  point  of  Vutencss,  wanted,  after  all,  a  full 
quarter  of  being  square;  for  there  is  always  a  great  dif 
ference  between  a  wise  man  and  a  knave.  Bill  was  so 
nrich  of  a  rogue  that  he  could  not,  for  the  blood  of  him, 
ask  an  honest  wish,  but  stood  scratching  his  head  in  a 
puzzle. 

"Three  wishes!  "said  he.  "  \Vhv,  let  me  see — did  you 
say  three?" 

"Ay,"  replied  the  stranger,  " three  wishes — that  was 
what  T  said." 

"Well,"  said  Bill,  "  here  goes, — aha  ! — let  me  alone,  my 
old  worthy  ! — faith  I'll  overreach  the  parish,  if  what  you 
say  is  true.  Ill  cheat  them  in  dozens,  rich  and  poor,  old 
and  young :  let  me  alone,  man — I  have  it  here  ;  "  and  he 
tapped  his  forehead  with  great  glee.  "  Faith,  you're  the 
sort  to  meet  of  a  frosty  morning,  when  a  man  wants  his 
breakfast ;  and  I'm  sorry  that  I  have  neither  money  nor 
credit  to  get  a  bottle  of  whisky,  that  we  might  take  our 
tmtrninf/  together." 

"  Well,  but  let  us  hear  the  wishes,"  said  the  old  man  ; 
"  my  time  is  short,  and  I  cannot  stay  much  longer." 

"Do  you  see  this  sledge-hammer?  "  said  Bill ;  "I  wish, 
in  the  first  place,  that  whoever  takes  it  up  in  their  hands 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES.  i 

may  never  be  able  to  lay  it  down  till  I  give  them  lave  ; 
and  that  whoever  begins  to  sledge  with  it  may  never  stop 
sledging  till  it's  my  pleasure  to  release  him." 

"  Secondly — I  have  an  arm-chair,  and  I  wish  that  who 
ever  sits  clown  in  it  may  never  rise  out  of  it  till  they  have 
my  consent." 

"  And,  thirdly — that  whatever  money  I  put  into  my 
purse,  nobody  may  have  power  to  take  it  out  of  it  but 
myself !  " 

"  You  devil's  rip ! "  says  the  old  man  in  a  passion, 
shaking  his  staff  across  Bill's  nose,  "  why  did  you  not  ask 
something  that  would  sarve  you  both  here  and  hereafter  ? 
Sure  it's  as  common  as  the  market- cross,  that  there's  not 
a  vagabone  in  his  Majesty's  dominions  stands  more  in 
need  of  both." 

"  Oh !  by  the  elevens,"  said  Bill,  "  I  forgot  that  alto 
gether  !  Maybe  you'd  be  civil  enough  to  let  me  change 
one  of  them  ?  The  sorra  purtier  wish  ever  was  made  than 
I'll  make,  if  you'll  give  me  another  chance." 

"  Get  out,  you  reprobate,"  said  the  old  fellow,  still  in  a 
passion.  "  Your  day  of  grace  is  past.  Little  you  knew 
who  was  speaking  to  you  all  this  time.  I'm  St.  Moroky, 
you  blackguard,  and  I  gave  you  an  opportunity  of  doing 
something  for  yourself  and  your  family  ;  but  you  neglected 
it,  and  now  your  fate  is  cast,  you  dirty,  bog-trotting 
profligate.  Sure,  it's  well  known  what  you  are  !  Aren't 
you  a  by-word  in  everybody's  mouth,  you  and  your  scold 
of  a  wife  ?  By  this  and  by  that,  if  ever  you  happen  to 
come  across  me  again,  I'll  send  you  to  where  you  won't 
freeze,  you  villain  !  " 

He  then  gave  Bill  a  rap  of  his  cudgel  over  the  head, 
and  laid  him  at  his  length  beside  the  bellows,  kicked  a 
broken  coal-scuttle  out  of  his  way,  and  left  the  forge  in  a 
fury. 

When  Billy  recovered  himself  from  the  effects  of  the 
blow,  and  began  to  think  on  what  had  happened,  he 
could  have  quartered  himself  with  vexation  for  not  asking 
great  wealth,  as  one  of  the  wishes  at  least ;  but  now  the 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  335 

die  was  cast  on  him,  and  he  could  only  make  the  most  of 
the  three  he  pitched  upon. 

He  now  bethought  him  how  he  might  turn  them  to  the 
best  account,  and  here  his  cunning  came  to  his  aid.  lie 
began  by  sending  for  his  wealthiest  neighbors  on  pre 
tence  of  business;  and  when  he  got  them  under  his  roof, 
lie  offered  them  the  arm-chair  to  sit  down  in.  lie  now 
had  them  safe,  nor  could  all  the  art  of  man  relieve  them 
except  worthy  Hill  was  willing.  Hill's  plan  was  to  make 
the  best  bargain  he  could  before  he  released  his  prisoners; 
and  let  him  alone  for  knowing  how  to  make  their  purses 
bleed.  There  wasn't  a  wealthy  man  in  the  country  he 
did  not  fleece.  The  parson  of  the  parish  bled  heavily  ; 
so  did  the  lawyer ;  and  a  rich  attorney,  who  had  retired 
from  practice,  swore  that  the  Court  of  Chancery  itself 
was  paradise  compared  to  Bill's  chair. 

This  was  all  very  good  for  a  time.  The  fame  of  his 
chair,  however,  soon  spread;  so  did  that  of  his  sledge. 
In  a  short  time  neither  man,  woman,  nor  child  would 
darken  his  door;  all  avoided  him  and  his  fixtures  as  they 
would  a  spring-gun  or  man-trap.  Kill,  so  long  as  he 
fleeced  his  neighbors,  never  wrought  a  hand's  turn  ;  so 
that  when  his  money  was  out,  he  found  himself  as  badlv 
off  as  ever.  In  addition  to  all  this,  his  character  was 
fifty  times  worse  than  before  ;  for  it  was  the  general  be 
lief  that,  he  had  dealings  with  the  old  boy.  Nothing  now 
could  exceed  his  misery,  distress,  and  ill-temper.  The 
wife  and  he  and  their  children  all  fought  among  one, 
another.  Everybody  hated  them,  cursed  them,  and 
avoided  them.  The  people  thought  they  were  acquainted 
with  more  than  Christian  people  ought  to  know.  This, 
of  course,  came  to  Bill's  ears,  and  it  vexed  him  very 
much. 

One  day  he  was  walking  about  the  fields,  thinking  of 
how  he  could  raise  the  wind  once  more  ;  the  day  was  dark, 
and  he  found  himself,  before  he  stopped,  in  the  bottom  of 
a  lonely  glen  covered  by  great  bushes  that  grew  on  each 
"  Well,"  thought,  he,  when  every  other  means  of 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

raising  money  failed  him,  "  it's  reported  that  I'm  in  league 
with  the  old  boy,  and  as  it's  a  folly  to  have  the  name  of 
the  connection  without  the  profit,  I'm  ready  to  make  a 
bargain  with  him  any  day ; — so,"  said  he,  raising  his  voice, 
"  Nick,  you  sinner,  if  you  be  convenient  and  willing,  why 
stand  out  here ;  show  your  best  leg — here's  your  man." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when  a  dark, 
sober-looking  old  gentleman,  not  unlike  a  lawyer,  walked 
up  to  him.  Bill  looked  at  the  foot  and  saw  the  hoof. — 
"  Morrow,  Nick,"  says  Bill. 

"  Morrow,  Bill,"  says  Nick.  "  Well,  Bill,  what's  the 
news  ?  " 

"  Devil  a  much  myself  hears  of  late,"  says  Bill ;  "  is 
there  anything  fresh  below  ?  " 

"I  can't  exactly  say,  Bill;  I  spend  little  of  my  time 
down  now ;  the  Tories  are  in  office,  and  my  hands  are 
consequently  too  full  of  business  here  to  pay  much  at 
tention  to  anything  else." 

"  A  fine  place  this,  sir,"  says  Bill,  "  to  take  a  constitu 
tional  walk  in  ;  when  I  want  an  appetite  I  often  come  this 
way  myself — hem !  High  feeding  is  very  bad  without 
exercise." 

"High  feeding!  Come,  come,  Bill,  you  know  you 
didn't  taste  a  morsel  these  four-and- twenty  hours." 

"  You  know  that's  a  bounce,  Nick.  I  eat  a  breakfast 
this  morning  that  would  put  a  stone  of  flesh  on  you,  if  you 
only  smelt  at  it." 

"  No  matter  ;  this  is  not  to  the  purpose.  What's  that 
you  were  muttering  to  yourself  awhile  ago  ?  If  you  want 
to  come  to  the  brunt,  here  I'm  for  you." 

u  Nick,"  said  Bill,  "you're  complate  ;  you  want  nothing 
barring  a  pair  of  Brian  O'Lyim's  breeches." 

Bill,  in  fact,  was  bent  on  making  his  companion  open 
the  bargain,  because  he  had  often  heard  that,  in  that  case, 
with  proper  care  on  his  own  part,  he  might  defeat  him  in 
the  long  run.  The  other,  ho\ve\fr,  \VHS  his  match. 

"  What  was  the  nature  of  Brian's  garment,"  inquired 
Nick.  "  Why,  you  know  the  song,"  said  Bill— 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  3:57 

"  '  Brian  O'Lynn  had  no  breeches  to  wear, 

So  he  got  a  sheep's  skin  for  to  make  him  a  pair  ; 
With  the  fleshy  side  out  and  the  woolly  side  in, 
They'll  be  pleasant  and  cool,  says  Brian  O'Lynn.' 

"A  cool  pare  would  sarve  you,  Nick/' 

"  You're  mighty  waggish  to-day,  Misther  Dawson." 

"And  good  right  I  have,"  said  Hill;  "Tin  a  man  snug 
and  well  to  do  in  the  world;  have  lots  of  money,  plenty 
of  good  eating  and  drinking,  and  what  more  need  a  man 
wish  for?" 

"  True,"  said  the  other;  "in  the  meantime  it's  rather 
odd  that  so  respectable  a  man  should  not  have  six  inches 
of  unbroken  cloth  in  his  apparel.  You  are  as  naked  a 
tatterdemalion  as  I  ever  laid  my  eyes  on;  in  full  dress  for 
a  party  of  scare-crows,  William." 

"•That's  my  own  fancy,  Nick;  I  don't  work  at 
trade  like  a  gentleman.  This  is  my  forge  dress, 
know." 

"  Well,  but  what  did  you  summon  me  here  for?  "  said 
the  other;  "you  may  as  well  speak  out,  I  tell  you;  for, 
my  good  friend,  unless  t/nti  do,  /  shan't.  Smell  that." 

"  1  smell  more  than  that,"  said  Hill  ;  k-and  by  the  way, 
I'll  thank  you  to  give  me  the,  windy  side  of  you — curse  all 
sulphur,  I  say.  There,  that's  what  1  call  an  improvement 
in  my  condition.  Hut  as  you  <(/•#  so  stiff,"  says  Hill, 
"  why,  the  short  and  long  of  it  is — that — hem — you  see 
I'm — tut — sure  you  know  I  have  a  thriving  trade  of  my 
own,  and  that  if  1  li-ke  T  needn't  be  at  a  loss  ;  but  in  the 
meantime  I'm  rather  in  a  kind  of  a  so — so — don't  you 
take  S  " 

And  Bill  winked  knowingly,  hoping  to  trick  him  into 
the  first  proposal. 

"You  must  speak  above-board,  my  friend,"  says  the 
'other.  "I'm  a  man  of  a  few  words,  blunt  and  honest. 
If  you  have  anything  to  say,  be.  plain.  TVjn'l.  think  I  cun 
be  losing  my  time  with  ;;i.ir-h  H  pitiful  ra^-al  as  \<>u 
are." 

"  Well,"  £,ayo  Bill,  "  I  want  money,  then,  and  ,mi  ready 

22 


338  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

1<>  come  into  terms.  What  have  you  to  say  to  that, 
Nick?" 

"  Let  me  see — let  me  look  at  you,'1  says  his  companion, 
turning  him  about.  "  Now,  Bill,  in  the  first  place,  are 
you  not  as  finished  a  scare-crow  as  ever  stood  upon  two 
legs?" 

"  I  play  second  fiddle  to  you  there  again,"  says  Bill. 

"  There  you  stand,  with  the  blackguards'  coat  of  arms 
quartered  under  your  eye,  and — 

"Don't  make  little  of  Mvc/.-guards,"  said  Bill,  "nor 
spake  disparagingly  of  your  own  crest." 

"  Why,  what  would  you  bring,  you  brazen  rascal,  it' 
you  were  fairly  put  up  at  auction?" 

"  Faith,  Fd  bring  more  bidders  than  you  would,"  said 
Hill,  "  if  you  were  to  go  off  at  auction  to-morrow.  I  tell 
you  they  should  bid  downwards  to  come  to  your  value, 
Nicholas.  We  have  no  coin  small  enough  to  purchase 
you." 

"  Well,  no  matter,"  said  Nick.  "If  you  are  willing  to 
be  mine  at  the  expiration  of  seven  years,  T  will  give  you 
more  money  than  eyer  the  rascally  brood  of  you  was 
wort  h." 

"•Done!"  said  I  Jill  ;  "but  no  disparagement  to  my 
family,  in  the  meantime;  so  down  with  the  hard  cash, 
and  don't  be  a  n<'<j< i\" 

The  money  was  accordingly  paid  down  !  but  as  no 
body  Avas  present,  except  the  giver  and  receiver,  the 
amount  of  what  I >i  11  got  Ayas  never  known. 

"  Wolf t  you  give  me  a  luck-penny:' "  said  the  old  gen 
tleman. 

"  Tut,"  said  Hilly,  u  so  prosperous  an  old  fellow  as  you 
cannot  want  it:  however,  bad  luck  to  you,  with  all  my 
heart  !  and  it's  rubbing  grease  to  a  fal  pig  to  say  so.  Be 
oil'  now,  or  ]'!!  e-Miimit  suicide  on  you.  Your  absence  is 
a  cordial  to  most  people,  you  infernal  old  profligate 
You  have  injured  my  morals  even  for  the  short  time  you 
have  been  Avith  me  ;  for  I  don't  find  myself  so  virtuous  as 
I  w.i 


THE  THREE  WISHES. 

"  Is  that  your  gratitude,  Billy  ?  " 

u  Is  it  gratitude  IJOH  speak  of,  man?  I  wonder  you 
don't  blush  when  you  name  it.  However,  when  you  eome 
again,  if  you  bring  a  third  eye  in  your  head  you  will 
see  what  I  inane,  Nicholas,  ahagur." 

The  old  gentleman,  as  Bill  spoke,  hopped  across  the 
ditch,  on  his  way  to  /A><'v/ /////-street,  where  of  late  'tis 
thought  he  possesses  much  influence. 

Bill  now  began  by  degrees  to  show  off  ;  but  still  wrought 
a  little  at  his  trade  to  blindfold  the  neighbors.  In  a  very 
short  time,  however  he  became  a  great  man.  So  lorg 
indeed  as  he  was  a  /><><»'  rascal,  no  decent  person  would 
speak  to  him  ;  even  the  proud  serving-men  at  the  "  I>ig 
House"  would  turn  up -their  noses  at  him.  And  he  well 
deserved  to  be  made  little  of  by  others,  because  he  was 
mean  enough  to  make  little  of  himself.  Hut  when  it  was 
seen  and  known  that  he  had  oceans  of  money,  it  was 
wonderful  to  think,  although  he  was  »<>it'  a  greater  black 
guard  than  ever,  how  those  who  despised  him  before 
began  to  come  round  him  and  court  his  company.  Bill, 
however,  had  neither  sense  nor  spirit  to  make  those  sun 
shiny  friends  know  their  distance;  not  he--iiistend  of 
that  he  was  proud  to  be  seen  in  decent  company,  and  so 
long  as  the  money  lasted,  it  was,  "hail  fellow,  well  met," 
between  himself  and  every  fair-faced  npiin</<:r  who  had  a 
horse  under  him,  a  decent  coat  to  his  back,  and  a  good 
appetite  to  eat  his  dinners.  With  riches  and  all,  Bill  was 
the  same  man  still ;  but,  somehow  or  other,  there  is  a 
great  difference  between  a  rich  profligate  and  a  poor  one, 
and  Bill  found  it  so  to  his  cost  in  both  cases. 

Before  half  the  seven  years  was  passed,  Bill  had  his 
carriage,  and  his  equipages ;  was  hand  and  glove  with  my 
Lord  This,  and  my  Lord  That ;  kept  hounds  and  hunters; 
was  the  first  sportsman  at  the  Curragh ;  patronized 
every  boxing  ruffian  he  could  pick  up ;  and  betted  night 
and  day  on  cards,  dice,  and  horses.  Bill,  in  short,  should 
be  a  blood,  and  except  he  did  all  this,  he  could  not 
presume  to  mingle  with  the  fashionable  bloods  of  his  time. 


340  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

It's  an  okl  proverb,  however,  that  "  what  is  got  over  the 
devil's  back  is  sure  to  go  off  under  it ;  "  and  in  Bill's 
case  this  proved  true.  In  short,  the  old  boy  himself 
could  not  supply  him  with  money  so  fast  as  he  made  it 
fly  ;  it  was  "  come  easy,  go  easy,"  with  Bill,  and  so  sign 
was  on  it,  before  he  came  within  two  years  of  his  time  he 
found  his  purse  empty. 

And  now  came  the  value  of  his  summer  friends  to  be 
known.  When  it  was  discovered  that  the  cash  was  no 
longer  flush  with  him — that  stud,  and  carriage,  and 
hounds  were  going  to  the  hammer — whish  !  off  they  went, 
friends,  relations,  pot-companions,  dinner-eaters,  black 
legs,  and  all,  like  a  flock  of  crows  that  had  smelt  gun 
powder.  Down  Bill  soon  went,  week  after  week,  and  day 
after  day,  until  at  last  he  was  obliged  to  put  on  the 
leather  apron,  and  take  to  the  hammer  again;  and  not 
only  that,  for  as  no  experience  could  make  him  wise,  he 
once  more  began  his  tap-room  brawls,  his  quarrels  with 
Judy,  and  took  to  his  "  high  feeding  "  at  the  dry  potatoes 
and  salt.  Now,  too,  came  the  cutting  tongues  of  all  who 
knew  him,  like  razors  upon  him.  Those  that  he  scorned 
because  they  were  poor  and  himself  rich,  now  paid  him 
back  his  own  with  interest ;  and  those  that  he  measured 
himself  with,  because  they  were  rich,  and  who  only  coun 
tenanced  him  in  consequence  of  his  wealth,  gave  him  the 
hardest  word  in  their  cheeks.  The  devil  mend  him !  He 
deserved  it  all,  and  more  if  he  had  got  it. 

Bill,  however,  who  was  a  hardened  sinner,  never  fretted 
himself  down  an  ounce  of  flesh  by  what  was  said  to  him, 
or  of  him.  Not  he ;  he  cursed,  and  fought,  and  swore, 
and  schemed  away  as  usual,  taking  in  every  one  he  could  ; 
and  surely  none  could  match  him  at  villainy  of  all  sorts, 
and  sizes. 

At  last  the  seven  years  became  expired,  and  Bill  was  one 
morning  sitting  in  his  forge,  sober  and  hungry,  the  wife 
cursing  him,  and  the  childhre  squalling  as  before ;  he  was 
thinking  how  he  might  defraud  some  honest  neighbor  out 
of  a  breakfast  to  stop  their  mouths  and  his  own  too,  when 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  'Ul 

who  walks  in  to  him  but  old  Nick,  to  demand  his  bar 
gain. 

"  Morrow,  Bill !  "  says  he  with  a  sneer. 

"The  devil  welcome  you  !  "  says  Bill :  "  but  you  have  a, 
fresh  memory." 

"  A  bargain's  a  bargain  between  two  ho-neat  men,  any 
day,"  says  Satan;  "when  I  speak  of  honest  men,  I  mean 
yourself  and  me,  Bill  ;"  and  he  put  his  tongue  in  his  cheek 
to  make  game  of  the  unfortunate  rogue  he  had  come  for. 

"Nick,  my  worthy  fellow,"  said  Bill,  "have  bowels  ;  you 
wouldn't  do  a  shabby  thing;  you  wouldn't  disgrace  your 
own  character  by  putting  more  weight  upon  a  falling  man. 
You  know  what  it  is  to  get  a  c<»ne  dofn  yourself,  my 
worthy  ;  so  just  keep  your  toe  in  your  pump,  and  walk  off 
with  yourself  somewhere  else.  A  cool  walk  will  sarve  you 
better  than  my  company,  Nicholas." 

"  Bill,  it's  nouse  in  shirking,"  said  his  friend;  "  your 
swindling  tricks  may  enable  you  to  cheat  others,  but  you 
won't  cheat  )ne,  I  guess.  You  want  nothing  to  make  you 
perfect  in  your  way  but  to  travel  ;  and  travel  you  shall 
under  my  guidance,  Billy.  No,  no — /'/;/  not  to  be  swindled, 
my  good  fellow.  I  have  rather  a— a — better  opinion  of 
myself,  Mr.  I). ,  than  to  think  that  you  could  outwit  one 
Nicholas  Clutie,  Esq. — ahem  !  " 

"  You  may  sneer,  you  sinner,"  replied  Bill  ;  "but  I  tell 
you  that  I  have  outwitted  men  who  could  buy  and  sell  you 
to  your  face.  Despair,  you  villain,  when  I  tell  you  that  no 
attorney  could  stand  before  me. 

Satan's  countenance  got  blank  when  he  heard  this ;  he 
wriggled  and  fidgeted  about,  and  appeared  to  be  not  quite 
comfortable. 

"  In  that  case,  then,"  says  he,  "  the  sooner  I  deceive  you 
the  better ;  so  turn  out  for  the  Low  Countries." 

"  Is  it  come  to  that  in  earnest  ?  "  said  Bill,  "  and  are  you 
going  to  act  the  rascal  at  the  long  run  ?  " 

"  Ton  honor,  Bill." 

"  Have  patience,  then,  you  sinner,  till  I  finish  this  horse 
shoe — it's  the  last  of  a  set  I'm  finishing  for  one  of  your 


342  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

friend  the  attorney's  horses.  And  here,  Nick,  I  hate  idle 
ness,  you  know  it's  the  mother  of  mischief ;  take  this 
sledge-hammer,  and  give  a  dozen  strokes  or  so,  till  I  get  it 
out  of  hands,  and  then  here's  with  you,  since  it  must  be 
so." 

He  then  gave  the  bellows  a  puff  that  blew  half  a  peck 
of  dust  in  Club-foot's  face,  whipped  out  the  red-hot  iron, 
and  set  Satan  sledging  away  for  bare  life. 

"  Faith,"  says  Bill  to  him,  when  the  shoe  was  finished, 
"  it's  a  thousand  pities  ever  the  sledge  should  be  out  of  your 
hand  ;  the  great  Parr  a  Gow  was  a  child  to  you  at  sledg 
ing,  you're  such  an  able  tyke.  Now  just  exercise  yourself 
till  I  bid  the  wife  and  childhre  good-by,  and  then  I'm 
off. 

Out  went  Bill,  of  course,  without  the  slightest  notion  of 
coming  back  ;  no  more  than  Nick  had  that  he  could  not 
give  up  the  sledging,  and  indeed  neither  coidd  he,  but  was 
forced  to  work  away  as  if  he  was  sledging  for  a  wager. 
This  was  just  what  Bill  wanted.  He  was  now  compelled 
to  sledge  on  until  it  was  Bill's  pleasure  to  release  him  ; 
and  so  we  leave  him  very  industriously  employed,  while 
we  look  after  the  worthy  who  outwitted  him. 

In  the  meantime,  Bill  broke  cover,  and  took  to  the 
country  at  large  ;  wrought  a  little  journey-work  .wherever 
be  could  get  it,  and  in  this  way  went  from  one  place  to 
another,  till,  in  the  course  of  a  month,  he  walked  back 
very  coolly  into  his  own  forge,  to  see  how  things  went  on 
in  his  absence.  There  he  found  Satan  in  a  ragev  the  per 
spiration  pouring  from  him  'in  torrents,  hammering  with 
might  and  main  upon  the  naked  anvil.  Bill  calmly 
leaned  his  back  against  the  wall,  placed  his  hat,  upon  the 
side  of  his  head,  put  his  hands  into  his  breeche^  pockets, 
and  began  to  whistle  Shaun  Gow's  hornpipe.  At  length 
.  he  says,  in  a  very  quiet  and  good-humored  way-;— 
"  Morrow,  Nick  !  " 

"  Oh !  "  says  Nick,  still  hammering  away— <-"  Oh  !  you 
double-distilled  villain  (hech !),  may  the  m~ost  refined, 
pjrnamental  (hech !),  doubled-rectified,  super-vextra,  and 


THE  THREE  WISHES. 

original  (hech ! )  collection  of  curses  that  ever  was 
gathered  (hech  !)  into  a  single  nosegay  of  ill-fortune  (hech  !) 
shine  in  the  button-hole  of  your  conscience  (hech !)  while 
you  name  is  Bill  Dawson  !  I  denounce  you  (hech  !)  as  a 
double-milled  villain,  a  finished,  hot-pressed  knave  (hech  !), 
in  comparison  of  whom  all  the  other  knaves  I  ever  knew 
(hech  !),  attorneys  included,  are  honest  men.  I  brand  you 
(hech!)  as  the  pearl  of  cheats,  a  tip-top  take-in  (hech!) 
I  denounce  you,  I  say  again,  for  the  villainous  treatment 
(hech !)  I  have  received  at  your  hands  in  this  most  un 
toward  (liech !)  and  unfortunate  transaction  between  us  ; 
for  (hech  !)  unfortunate,  in  every  sense1,  is  he  that  has 
anything  to  do  with  (hech  !)  such  a  prime  and  finished 
impostor." 

"You're  very  warm,  Nicky,  says  Bill ;  "what  puts  you 
into  a  passion,  you  old  sinner?  Sure  if  it's  your  own  will 
and  pleasure  to  take  exercise  at  my  anvil,  I 'tit  not  to  be 
abused  for  it.  Upon  my  credit,  Nicky,  you  ought  to 
blush  for  using  such  blackguard  language,  so  unbecoming 
your  grave  character.  You  cannot  say  that  it  was  I  set 
you  a  hammering  at  the  empty  anvil,  you  profligate. 
However,  as  you  are  so  industrious,  I  simply  say  it  would 
be  a  thousand  pities  to  take  you  from  it.  Nick,  I  love  in 
dustry  in  my  heart,  and  I  always  encourage  it ;  so  work 
away,  it's  not  often  you  spend  your  time  so  creditably. 
I'm  afraid  if  you  weren't  at  that  you'd  be  worse  em 
ployed." 

"Bill,  have  bowels,"  said  the  operative;  "you  wouldn't 
go  to  lay  more  weight  on  a  falling  man,  you  know ;  you 
wouldn't  disgrace  your  character  by  such  a  piece  of 
iniquity  as  keeping  an  inoffensive  gentleman,  advanced 
in  years,  at  such  an  unbecoming  and  rascally  job  as  this, 
Generosity's  your  top  virtue,  Bill ;  not  but  that  you  have 
many  other  excellent  ones,  as  well  as  that,  among  which, 
as  you  say  yourself,  I  reckon  industry  ;  but  still  it  is  in 
generosity  you  shine.  Come,  Bill,  honor  bright,  and 
release  me." 

"  Name  the  terms,  you  profligate." 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES.  / 

"  You're  above  terms,  William  ;  a  generous  fellow  like 
you  never  thinks  of  terms." 

"  Good-by,  old  gentleman  ! "  said  Bill,  very  coolly  ;  "  I'll 
drop  in  to  see  you  once  a  month." 

"Xo,  no,  Bill,  you  infern — a — a — you  excellent,  worthy, 
delightful  fellow,  not  so  fast ;  not  so  fast.  Come,  name 
your  terms,  you  sland my  dear  Bill,  name  your  terms." 

"  Seven  years  more." 

"  I  agree  ;  but — 

"  And  the  same  supply  of  cash  as  before,  down  on  the 
nail  here." 

"  Very  good  ;  very  good.  You^re  rather  simple,  Bill ; 
rather  soft,  I  must  confess.  Well,  no  matter.  I  shall 
yet  turn  the  tab — a — hem!  Y^ou  are  an  exceedingly 
simple  fellow,  Bill ;  still  there  will  come  a  day,  my  dear 
Bill — there  will  come — 

"  Do  you  grumble,  you  vagrant  ?  Another  word,  and  I 
double  the  terms." 

"  Mum,  William  ;  tace  is  Latin  for  a  candle." 

"  Seven  years  more  of  grace,  and  the  same  measure  of 
the  needful  that  I  got  before.  Ay  or  no  ?  " 

"Of  grace,  Bill!  Ay!  ay!  ay!  There's  the  cash.  I 
accept  the  terms.  Oh  blood !  the  rascal — of  grace  !  ! 
Bill ! " 

"  AVell,  now  drop  the  hammer,  and  vanish,"  says  Billy  ; 
"but  what  would  you  think  to  take  this  sledge,  while 

you  stay,  and  give  me  a eh  !  why  in  such  a  hurry  ?  "  he 

added,  seeing  that  Satan  withdrew  in  double-quick  time. 

"  Hollo  !  Nicholas !  "  he  shouted,  "  come  back  ;  you 
forgot  something !  "  and  when  the  old  gentleman  looked 
behind  him,  Billy  shook  the  hammer  at  him,  on  which 
he  vanished  altogether. 

Billy  now  got  into  his  old  courses ;  and  what  shows  the 
kind  of  people  the  world  is  made  of,  he  also  took  up  with 
his  old  company.  When  they  saw  that  he  had  the  money 
once  more,  and  was  sowing  it  about  him  in  all  directions, 
they  immediately  began  to  find  excuses  for  his  former 
extravagance. 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  345 

"Say  what  you  will,  "said  one,  "  I  Jill  Dawson's  a  spirited 
fellow,  and  bleeds  like  a  prince." 

"  He's  a  hospitable  man  in  his  own  house,  or  out  of  it, 
as  ever  lived,'"  said  another. 

"His  only  fault  is"  observed  a  third,  "  that  he  is,  if 
anything,  too  generous,  and  doesn't  know  the  value  of 
money  ;  his  fault's  on  the  right  side,  however." 

"He  has  the  spunk  in  him,"  said  a  fourth ;  "keeps  a 
capital  table,  prime  wines,  and  a  standing  welcome  for  his 
friends." 

"  Why,"  .said  a  fifth,  u  if  he  doesn't  enjoy  his  money 
while  he  lives,  he  won't  when  he's  dead  ;  so  more  power 
to  him,  and  a  wider  throat  to  his  purse." 

Indeed,  the  very  persons  who  were  cramming  them 
selves  at  his  expense  despised  him  at  heart.  They  knew 
very  well,  however,  how  to  take  him  on  the  weak  side. 
Praise  his  generosity,  and  he  would  do  anything;  call 
him  a  man  of  spirit,  and  you  might  fieece  him  to  his  face. 
Sometimes  he  would  toss  a  purse  of  guineas  to  this  knave, 
another  to  that  flatterer,  a  third  to  a  bully,  and  a  fourth 
to  some  broken-down  rake — and  all  to  convince  them  that 
/«'  Avas  a  sterling  friend — a  man  of  mettle  and  liberality. 
]>ut  never  was  he  known  to  help  a  virtuous  and  strug 
gling  family — to  assist  the  widow  or  the  fatherless,  or  to 
do  any  other  act  that  was  tmJi/  useful.  It  is  to  be  sup 
posed  the  reason  of  this  was,  that  a*s  he  spent  it,  as  most 
of  the  world  do,  in  the  service  of  the  devil,  by  whose  aid 
he  got  it,  he  was  prevented  from  turning  it  to  a  good  ac 
count.  Between  you  and  me,  dear  reader,  there  are  more 
persons  acting  after  Bill's  fashion  in  the  same  world  than 
you  dream  about. 

When  his  money  was  out  again,  his  friends  played  him 
the  same  rascally  game  once  more.  No  sooner  did  his 
poverty  become  plain,  than  the  knaves  began  to  be  troubled 
with  small  fits  of  modesty,  such  as  an  unwillingness  to 
come  to  his  place  when  there  was  no  longer  anything  to 
be  got  there.  A  kind  of  virgin  bashfulness  prevented 
them  from  speaking  to  him  when  they  saw  him  getting  out 


JUG  11MSIT  FAIRY  TALES. 

on  the  wrong  side  of  his  clothes.  .Many  of  them  would 
turn  away  from  him  in  the  prettiest  and  most  delicate 
manner  when  they  thought  he  wanted  to  borrow  money 
from  them — all  for  fear  of  putting  him  to  the  blush  by 
asking  it.  Others  again,  when  they  saw  him  coming  t<3- 
wards  their  houses  about  dinner  hour,  would  become  so 
confused,  from  mere  gratitude,  as  to  think  themselves  in 
another  place ;  and  their  servants,  seized,  as  it  were,  with 
the  same  feeling,  would  tell  Bill  that  their  masters  were 
"  not  at  home." 

At  length,  after  traveling  the  same  villainous  round  as 
before,  Bill  was  compelled  to  betake  himself,  as  the  last 
remedy,  to  the  forge  ;  in  other  words,  he  found  that  there 
is,  after  all,  nothing  in  this  world  that  a  man  can  rely  on 
so  firmly  and  surely  as  his  own  industry.  Bill,  however, 
wanted  the  organ  of  common  sense  ;  for  his  experience — 
and  it  was  sharp  enough  to  leave  an  impression — ran  off 
him  like  water  off  a  duck. 

He  took  to  his  employment  sorely  against  his  grain ; 
but  he  had  now  no  choice.  lie  must  either  work  or 
starve,  and  starvation  is  like  a  great  doctor — nobody  tries 
it  till  every  other  remedy  fails  them.  Bill  had  been  twice 
rich ;  twice  a  gentleman  among  blackguards,  but  always 
blackguard  among  gentlemen  ;  for  no  wealth  or  acquain 
tance  with  decent  society  could  rub  the  rust  of  his  native 
vulgarity  off  him.  He  was  now  a  common  blinking  sot 
in  his  forge ;  a  drunken  bully  in  the  tap-room,  cursing 
and  brow-beating  every  one  as  well  as  his  wife  ;  boasting 
of  hoAV  much  money  he  had  spent  in  his  day  ;  swaggering 
about  the  high  doings  he  carried  on  ;  telling  stories  about 
himself  and  Lord  This  at  the  Curragh ;  the  dinners  he 
gave — how  much  they  cost  him,  and  attempting  to  extort 
credit  upon  the  strength  of  his  former  wealth.  He  was 
too  ignorant,  however,  to  know  that  lie  was  publishing 
his  own  disgrace,  and  that  it  was  a  mean-spirited  thing 
to  be  proud  of  what  ought  to  make  him  blush  through  a 
deal  board  nine  inches  thick. 

He  was  one  morning  industriously  engaged  in  a  quarrel 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  IM7 

with  his  wife,  who,  with  a  three-legged  stool  in  her  hand, 
appeared  to  mistake  his  head  for  his  own  anvil  ;  he,  in  the 
meantime,  paid  his  addresses  to  her  with  his  leather  apron, 
when  who  steps  into  jog  his  memory  about  the  little  agree 
ment  that  was  between  them,  but  old  Nick.  The  wife,  it 
seems,  in  spite  of  all  her  exertions  to  the  contrary,  was 
getting  the  worst  of  it ;  and  Sir  Nicholas,  willing  to  appear 
a  gentleman  of  great  gallantry,  thought  he  could  not  do  less 
than  take  up  the  lady's  quarrel,  particularly  as  Bill  had 
laid  her  in  a  sleeping  posture  Now  Satan  thought  this 
too  bad  ;  and  as  he  felt  himself  under  many  obligations  to 
the  sex,  he  determined  to  defend  one  of  them  on  the  pre 
sent  occasion  ;  so  as  Judy  rose,  he  turned  upon  the  hus 
band,  and  floored  him  by  a  clever  facer. 

"You  unmanly  villain,"  said  he,  "is  this  the  way  you 
treat  your  wife?  'I 'on  honor,  Bill,  I'll  chastise  you  on 
the  spot.  T  could  not  stand  by,  a  spectator  of  such  un- 
gentlemanly  conduct  without  giving  up  all  claim  to  gal 
lant—  Whack  !  the  word  was  divided  in  his  month 
by  the  blow  of  a  churn-staff  from  Judy,  \vlio  no  sooner 
saw  Bill  struck,  than  she  nailed  Satan,  who  "fell  "once 
more. 

"  What,  you  villain  !  that's  for  striking  my  husband 
like  a  murderer  behind  his  back,"  said  Judy,  and  she 
suited  the  action  to  the  word,  "that's  for  interfering  be 
tween  man  and  wife.  Would  yon  murder  the  poor  man 
before  my  face,  eh?  If  he  hates  me,  you  shabby  dog  you, 
who  has  a  better  right?  I'm  sure  it's  nothing  out  of 
your  pocket.  Must  yon  have  your  linger  in  every  pie  ?  " 

This  was  anything  but  idle  talk  ;  for  at  every  word  she 
gave  him  a  remembrance,  hot  and  heavy.  Nicholas 
backed,  danced  and  hopped;  she  advanced,  still  drubbing 
him  with  great  perseverance,  till  at  length  befell  into  the 
redoubtable  arm-chair,  which  stood  exactly  behind  him. 
Bill,  who  had  been  putting  in  two  blows  for  Judy's  one, 
seeing  that  his  enemy  was  safe,  now  got  between  the  devil 
and  his  wife,  a  situation  that  few  'trill  !>e  tllxj><m<>d  fo  envy 


JUS  IRISH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

"Tenderness,  Judy,"  said  the  husband,  "  I  hate  cruelty. 
Go  put  the  tongs  in  the  lire,  and  make  them  red  hot. 
Nicholas,  you  have  a  nose,"  said  he. 

Satan  began  to  rise,  but  was  rather  surprised  to  find 
that  he  could  not  budge. 

"  Nicholas,"  says  Bill,  "  how  is  your  pulse  ?  you  don't 
look  well ;  that  is  to  say,  you  look  worse  than  usual." 

The  other  attempted  to  rise,  but  found  it  a  mistake. 

"  I'll  thank  you  to  come  along,"  said  Bill.  "  I  have  a 
fancy  to  travel  under  your  guidance,  and  we'll  take  the 
Low  Countries  in  our  way,  won't  we  ?  Get  to  your  legs, 
you  sinner  ;  you  know  a  bargain's  a  bargain  between  two 
honest  men,  Nicholas ;  meaning  yourself  and  me.  Judy, 
are  the  tongs  hot  ?  " 

Satan's  face  was  Avorth  looking  at,  as  he  turned  his  eyes 
from  the  husband  to  the  wife,  and  then  fastened  them  on 
the  tongs,  now  nearly  at  a  furnace  heat  in  the  fire,  con 
scious  at  the  same  time  that  he  could  not  move  out  of 
the  chair. 

"  Billy,"  said  he,  "  you  won't  forget  that  I  rewarded 
your  generosity  the  last  time  I  saw  you,  in  the  way  of 
business."  "  Faith,  Nicholas,  it  fails  me  to  remember  any 
generosity  I  ever  showed  you.  Don't  be  womanish.  I 
simply  want  to  see  what  kind  of  stuff  your  nose  is  made 
of,  and  whether  it  will  stretch  like  a  rogue's  conscience. 
If  it  does,  we  will  flatter  it  up  the  chimly  with  red-hot 
tongs,  and  when  this  old  hat  is  fixed  on  the  top  of  it,  let 
us  alone  for  a  weather-cock."  "  Have  a  fellow-feeling,  Mr. 
Dawson ;  you  know  we  ought  not  to  dispute.  Drop  the 
matter,  and  I  give  you  the  next  seven  years."  "We 
know  all  that,'  says  Billy,  opening  the  red-hot  tongs  very 
coolly.  "Mr.  Dawson,"  said  Satan,  "if  you  cannot  re 
member  my  friendship  to  yourself,  don't  forget  how  often 
I  stood  your  father's  friend,  your  grandfather's  friend,  and 
the  friend  of  all  your  relations  up  to  the  tenth  generation. 
I  intended,  also,  to  stand  by  your  children,  after  you,  so 
long  as  the  name  of  Dawson,  and  a  respectable  one  it  is, 
might  last."  Don't  be  blushing,  Nick,"  says  Bill,  "  you 


THE  THRKE  WISHES.  340 

are  too  modest  ;  that  was  ever  your  failing  ;  hould  up  your 
head,  there's  money  bid  for  you.  I'll  give  you  such  a  nose, 
my  good  friend,  that  you  will  have  to  keep  an  outrider 
before  you,  to  carry  the  end  of  it  on  his  shoulder."  "  Mr. 
Dawson,  I  pledge  my  honor  to  raise  your  children  in  the 
world  as  high  as  they  can  go;  no  matter  whethery  the 
desire,  it  or  not."  "That's  very  kind  of  you,"  says  the, 
other,  "and  I'll  do  as  much  for  your  nose." 

He  gripped  it  as  he  spoke,  and  the  old  boy  immediately 
sung  out;  Hill  pulled,  and  the  nose  went  with  him  like  a 
piece  of  warm  wax.  lie  then  transferred  the  tongs  to  Judy, 
got  a  ladder,  resumed  the  tongs,  ascended  the  chimney,  and 
tugged  stoutly  at  the  nose  until  he  got  it  five  feet  above, 
the  roof.  lie  then  fixed  the  hat  upon  the  top  of  it,  and 
came  down. 

"There's  a  weather-cock,"  said  Hilly  ;  "I  defy  Ireland 
to  show  such  a  beauty.  Faith,  Nick,  it  would  make  the 
purtiest  steeple  for  a  church,  in  all  Europe,  and  the  old 
bat  tils  it  to  a  shaving."1 

In  this  state,  with  his  nose  twisted  up  the  chimney, 
Satan  sat  for  some  time,  experiencing  the  novelty  of  what 
might  be  termed  a  peculiar  sensation.  At  last  the  worthy 
husband  and  wife  begun  to  relent. 

"  I  think,"  said  Bill,  "that  we  have  made4  the  most  of 
the  nose,  as  well  as  the  joke  ;  I  believe,  Judy,  it's  long 
enough."  "What  is?  "says  Judy. 

"  Why,  the  joke,"  said  the  husband. 

"  Faith,  and  I  think  so  is  the  nose,"  said  Judy." 

"  What  do  you  say  yourself,  Satan?  "  said  Bill. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  William,"  said  the  other  ;  "  hut  that — 
ha  !  ha  ! — it's  a  good  joke — an  excellent  joke,  and  a  goodly 
nose,  too,  as  it  stands.  You  were  always  a  gentlemanly 
man,  Bill,  and  did  things  with  a  grace ;  still,  if  I  might 
give  an  opinion  on  such  a  trifle " 

"  It's  no  trifle  at  all,"  says  Bill,  "  if  you  spake  of  the 
nose."  "  Very  well,  it  is  not,"  says  the  other ;  "  still,  I  am 
decidedly  of  opinion,  that  if  you  could  shorten  both  the 
joke  and  the  nose  without  further  violence,  you  would  lay 


350  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

me  under  very  heavy  obligations,  which  I  shall  be  ready 
to  acknowledge  and  repay  as  I  ought."  "  Come,"  said 
Bill,  "  shell  out  once  more,  and  be  off  for  seven  years. 
As  much  as  you  came  down  with  the  last  time,  and 
vanish." 

The  words  were  scarcely  spoken,  when  the  money  was 
at  his  feet,  and  Satan  invisible.  Nothing  could  surpass 
the  mirth  of  Bill  and  his  wife  at  the  result  of  this  adven 
ture.  They  laughed  till  they  fell  down  on  the  floor. 

It  is  useless  to  go  over  the  same  ground  again.  Bill 
was  still  incorrigible.  The  money  went  as  the  devil's 
money  always  goes.  Bill  caroused  and  squandered,  but 
could  never  turn  a  penny  of  it  to  a  good  purpose.  In  this 
way,  year  after  year  went,  till  the  seventh  was  closed  and 
Bill's  hour  come.  lie  was  now,  and  had  been  for  some 
time  past,  as  miserable  a  knave  as  ever.  Not  a  shilling 
had  he,  nor  a  shilling's  worth,  Avith  the  exception  of  his 
forge,  his  cabin,  and  a  few  articles  of  crazy  furniture.  In 
this  state  he  was  standing  in  his  forge  as  before,  straining 
his  ingenuity  how  to  make  out  a  breakfast,  when  Satan 
came  to  look  after  him.  The  old  gentleman  was  sorely 
puzzled  how  to  get  at  him.  He  kept  skulking  arid  sneak 
ing  about  the  forge  for  some  time  till  he  saw  that  Bill 
hadn't  a  cross  to  bless  himself  with.  He  immediately 
changed  himself  into  a  guinea,  and  lay  in  an  open  place 
where  he  knew  Bill  would  see  him.  "  If,"  said  he,  "  I  once 
get  into  his  possession,  I  can  manage  him."  The  honest 
smith  took  the  bait,  for  it  was  well  gilded ;  he  clutched 
the  guinea,  put  it  into  his  purse,  and  closed  it  up.  "Ho  ! 
ho !  "  shouted  the  devil  out  of  the  purse,  "  you're  caught, 
Bill ;  I've  secured  you  at  last,  you  knave  you.  Why  don't 
you  despair,  you  villain,  when  you  think  of  what's  before 
you  ?  "  "  Why,  you  unlucky  ould  dog,"  said  Bill,  "  is  it 
there  you  are?  Will  you  always  drive  your  head  into 
every  loophole  that's  set  for  you  ?  Faith,  Nick  achora,  I 
never  had  you  bagged  till  now." 

Satan  then  began  to  tug  and  struggle  Avith  a  vieAV  of 
getting  out  of  the  purse,  but  in  vain. 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  351 

"Mr.  T);i  wson,"  said  he,  "  we  understand  each  other. 
I'll  give  the  seven  years  additional,  and  the  easli  on  the 
nail  '  "  l>e  aisey,  Nicholas.  You  know  the  weight  of  the 
han.mer,  that's  enough.  It's  not  a  whipping  with  feathers 
yoi. "re  going  to  get,  anyhow.  Just  beaisey."  "  Mr.  Daw- 
son,  I  grant  I'm  not  your  match.  Release  me,  and  I  dou 
ble  the  cash.  I  was  merely  trying  your  temper  when  I 
took  the  shape  of  a  guinea." 

u  Faith  and  I'll  try  yours  before  I  lave  it,  I've  a  notion.0 
lie  immediately  commenced  with  the  sledge,  and  Satan 
sang  out  with  a  considerable  want  of  firmness.  "Am  I 
heavy  enough  !  "  said  Hill. 

"Lighter,  lighter,  William,  if  you  love  me.  I  haven't 
been  well  latterly,  Mr.  Dawson  I  have  been  delicate-  mv 
health,  in  short,  is  in  a  very  precarious  state,  Mr. 
Dawson.''  "  I  can  believe  tlmt"  said  Hill,  "and  il  will  be 
more  so  before  I  have  done  with  yon.  Am  I  doing  il 
right  ?  "  "  I  Jill,"  said  Nick,  "is  this  gentlemanly  1  real  incut 
in  your  own  respectable  shop?  Do  yon  think,  if  yon 
dropped  into  my  little  place,  that  I'd  act  this  rascally 
part  towards  yon?  Have  yon  no  compunction":"'  "I 
know,"  replied  IJill,  sledging  away  with  vehemence,  "  thai 
you're  notorious  for  giving  your  friends  a  //v//-///  welcome. 
Divil  an  ould  youth  more  so;  but  you  must  be  daling  in 
bad  coin,  must  you?  However,  good  or  bad,  you're  in 
for  a  sweat  now,  you  sinner.  Am  I  doin'  it  purty?" 

"  Lovely,  William — but,  if  possible,  a  little  more  deli 
cate." 

"  Oli,  how  delicate  you  are  !  Maybe  a  cup  o"  tay  would 
sarve  you,  or  a  little  small  gruel  to  compose  your 
stomach." 

"Mr.  Dawson,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  purse,  "hold 
your  hand  and  let  us  understand  one  another.  I  have  a 
proposal  to  make."  "  Hear  the  sinner  anyhow,"  said  the 
wife.  "Xame  your  own  sum,"  said  Satan,  "only  set  me 
free."  "  Xo,  the  sorra  may  take  the  toe  you'll  budge  till 
you  let  Bill  off,"  said  the  wife  ;  "  hould  him  hard,  Bill, 
barrin'  he  sets  you  clear  of  your  engagement.  "  There  it 


352  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

is,  my  posy,"  said  Bill ;  "  that's  the  condition.  If  you 
don't  give  me  vp,  here's  at  you  once  more — and;  you 
must  double  the  cash  you  gave  the  last  time,  too.  no,  if 
you're  of  that  opinion,  say  ay — leave  the  cash  am  be 
off." 

The  money  again  appeared  in  a  glittering  heap  bei'ore 
Bill,  upon  which  he  exclaimed — "  The  ay  has  it,  you  dog. 
Take  to  your  pumps  now,  and  fair  weather  after  you,  you 
vagrant ;  but  Nicholas — Xick — here,  here—  -"  The 
other  looked  back,  and  saw  Bill,  with  a  broad  grin  upon 
him,  shaking  the  purse  at  him — "  Nicholas  come  back," 
said  he.  "  I'm  short  a  guinea."  Nick  shook  his  fist,  and 
disappeared. 

It  would  be  useless  to  stop  now,  merely  to  inform  our 
readers  that  Bill  was  beyond  improvement.  In  short,  he 
once  more  took  to  his  old  habits,  and  lived  on  exactly  in 
the  same  manner  as  before.  lie  had  two  sons — one  as 
great  a  blackguard  as  himself,  and  who  was  also  named 
after  him ;  the  other  was  a  well-conducted,  virtuous 
young  man,  called  James,  who  left  his  father,  and  having 
relied  upon  his  own  industry  and  honest  perseverance  in 
life,  arrived  afterwards  to  great  wealth,  and  built  the 
town  called  Castle  Dawson ;  which  is  so  called  from  its 
founder  until  this  day. 

Bill,  at  length,  in  spite  of  all  his  wealth,  was  obliged, 
as  he  himself  said,  "to  travel," — in  other  words,  he  fell 
asleep  one  day,  and  forgot  to  awaken;  or,  in  still  plainer 
terms,  he  died. 

Now,  it  is  usual,  when  a  man  dies,  to  close  the  history 
of  his  life  and  adventures  at  once  ;  but  with  our  hero  this 
cannot  be  the  case.  The  moment  Bill  departed,  he  very 
naturally  bent  his  steps  towards  the  residence  of  St. 
JMoroky,  as  being,  in  his  opinion,  likely  to  lead  him  to 
wards  the  snuggest  berth  he  could  readily  make  out.  On 
arriving,  he  gave  a  very  humble  kind  of  a  knock,  and  St. 
JVIoroky  appeared. 

"  God  save  your  Reverence !  "  said  Bill,  very  submis 
sively. 


THE  THREE  WISHES.  ,",53 

"  Be  off  ;  there's  no  admittance  here  for  so  poor  a  youth 
as  you  are,"  said  St.  Moroky. 

lie  was  now  so  cold  and  fatigued  that  he  cared  little 
where  he  went,  provided  only,  as  he  said  himself,  "  he 
could  rest  his  hones,  and  get  an  air  of  the  fire."1  Accord 
ingly,  after  arriving  at  a  large  black  gate,  he  knocked,  as 
before,  and  was  told  he  would  get  in#tant  admittance  the 
moment  lie  gave  his  name. 

"  Billy  Dawson,"  he  replied. 

u()tf,  instantly,"  said  the  porter  to  his  companions, 
"and  let  his  Majesty  know  that  the  rascal  he  dreads  s<> 
much  is  here  at  the  gate." 

Such  a  racket  and  tumult  were  never  heard  as  the  very 
mention  of  Hilly  Dawsou  created. 

In  the  meantime,  his  old  acquaintance  came  running 
towards  the  gate  with  such  haste  and  consternation,  that 
his  tail  was  several  times  nearly  tripping  up  his  heels. 

u  Don't  admit  that  rascal,"  he  shouted;  "bar  the  gate 
—  make  every  chain,  and  lock  and  bolt,  fast  -  I  won't  be 
safe—  and  I  won't  stay  here,  nor  none  of  us  need  stay 
here,  if  he  gets  in  my  bones  are  sore  yet  after  him. 
No,  no — begone,  you  villain- — you'll  get  no  entrance  here 
— 1  know  you  too  well." 

Hill  could  not  help  giving  a  broad,  malicious  grin  ;it 
Satan,  and,  putting  his  nose  through  the  bars,  he  ex 
claimed — "  Ila!  you  ould  dog,  I  have  you  afraid  of  me  at 
last,  have  I  ?  " 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words,  when  his  foe,  who 
stood  inside,  instantly  tweaked  him  by  the  nose,  and  Hill 
felt  as  if  he  had  been  gripped  by  the  same  red-hot  tongs 
with  which  he  himself  had  formerly  tweaked  the  nose  of 
Nicholas. 

Bill  then  departed,  but  soon  found  that  in  consequence 
of  the  inflammable  materials  which  strong  drink  had 
thrown  into  his  nose,  that  organ  immediately  took  lire, 
and,  indeed,  to  tell  the  truth,  kept  burning  night  and  day, 
winter  and  summer,  without  ever  once  going  out,  from 
that  hour  to  this. 


354:  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

Sue! i  was  the  sad  fate  of  Billy  Dawson,  who  has  been 
walking  without  stop  or  stay,  from  place  to  place,  ever 
since ;  and  in  consequence  of  the  flame  on  his  nose,  and 
his  beard  being  tangled  like  a  wisp  of  hay,  lie  has  been 
christened  by  the  country  folk  Will-o'-the-Wisp,  while, 
as  it  were,  to  show  the  mischief  of  his  disposition,  the 
circulating  knave,  knowing  that  he  must  seek  the  coldest 
bogs  and  quagmires  in  order  to  cool  his  nose,  seizes  upon 
that  opportunity  of  misleading  the  unthinking  and  tipsy 
night  travelers  from  their  way,  just  that  he  may  have 
the  satisfaction  of  still  taking  in  as  many  as  possible. 


GIANTS. 

AViiE.v  the  pagan  gods  of  Ireland — the  Tuaih-De-Danan 
— robbed  of  .worship  and  offerings,  grew  smaller  and 
smaller  in  the  popular  imagination,  until  they  turned  into 
the  fairies,  the  pagan  heroes  grew  bigger  and  bigger,  until 
they  turned  into  the  giants. 

THE  GIANT'S  STAIRS.* 

T.   CKOFTOX    rROKEH. 

O\  the  road  between  Passage  and  Cork  there  is  an  old 
mansion  called  Ronayne's  Court.  It  may  be  easily  known 
from  tne  stack  of  chimneys  and  the  gable-ends,  which  are 
to  be  seen,  look  at  it  which  way  you  will.  Here  it  was 
that  Maurice  Ronayne  and  his  wife  Margaret  Gould  kept 
house,  as  may  be  learned  to  this  day  from  the  great  old 
chimney-piece,  on  which  is  carved  their  arms.  They 
were  a  mighty  worthy  couple,  and  had  but  one  son,  who 
was  called  Philip,  after  no  less  a  person  than  the  King  of 
Spain. 

Immediately  on  his  smelling  the  cold  air  of  this  world 
the  child  sneezed,  which  was  naturally  taken  to  be  a  good 
sign  of  his  having  a  clear  head;  and  the  subsequent 
rapidity  of  his  learning  was  truly  amazing,  for  on  the 
very  first  day  a  primer  was  put  into  his  hands  he  tore  out 
the  A,  B,  C  page  and  destroyed  it,  as  a  thing  quite  be 
neath  his  notice.  Xo  Avonder,  then,  that  both  father  and 
mother  were  proud  of  their  heir,  who  gave  such  indis 
putable  proofs  of  genius,  or,  as  they  called  it  in  that  part 
of  the  world,  u  yMK.*? 

*  Fairy  Legends  of  the  South  of  Ireland. 

355 


356  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

One  morning,  however,  Master  Phil,  who  was  then  just 
seven  years  old,  was  missing,  and  no  one  could  tell  what 
had  become  of  him :  servants  were  sent  in  all  directions 
to  seek  him,  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  but  they  returned 
without  any  tidings  of  the  boy,  whose  disappearance 
altogether  was  most  unaccountable.  A  large  reward  was 
offered,  but  it  produced  them  no  intelligence,  and  years 
rolled  away  without  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ronayne  having  ob 
tained  any  satisfactory  account  of  the  fate  of  their  lost 
child. 

There  lived  at  this  time,  near  Carrigaline,  one  Robert 
Kelly,  a  blacksmith  by  trade.  He  was  what  is  termed  a 
handy  man,  and  his  abilities  were  held  in  much  estima 
tion  by  the  lads  and  the  lasses  of  the  neighborhood ;  for, 
independent  of  shoeing  horses,  which  he  did  to  great  per 
fection,  and  making  plow-irons,  he  interpreted  dreams 
for  the  young  women,  sung  "  Arthur  O'Bradley  "  at  their 
weddings,  and  was  so  good-natured  a  fellow  at  a  christen 
ing,  that  he  was  gossip  to  half  the  country  round. 

Now  it  happened  that  Robin  had  a  dream  himself,  and 
young  Philip  Ronayne  appeared  to  him  in  it,  at  the  dead 
hour  of  the  night.  Robin  thought  he  saw  the  boy 
mounted  upon  a  beautiful  white  horse,  and  thatv^,  told 
him  how  he  was  made  a  page  to  the  giant  Mahoft'  Mac- 
Mahon,  who  had  carried  him  off  and  wrho  held  his  court 
in  the  hard  heart  of  the  rock.  "  The  seven  years — my 
time  of  service — are  clean  out,  Robin,"  said  he,  'Sjand  if 
you  release  me  this  night  I  will  be  the  making  of  you 
for  ever  after." 

"And  how  will  I  know,"  said  Robin — cunning  enough, 
even  in  his  sleep — "but  this  is  alt  a  flream ? " 

"  Take  that,"  said  the  boy,  "  for  ^tykeii  " — and  at  the 
T  -d  the  white  horse  struck  out  with  oW*f  his  hind  legs, 
a.  ^avc  poor  Robin  such  a  kick  in  the,  forehead  that, 
thhiK.  ig  he  was  a  dead  man,  he  roared  as  loud  as  he  could 
after  h's  brains,  and  woke  up,  calling  a  thousand  mur 
ders.  He  found  himself  in  bed,  but  he  had  the  mark  of 
the  blow,  the  regular  print  of  a  horse- shoe,  upon  his  fore- 


THE  GIANT'S  STAIRS.  357 

head  as  red  as  blood  ;  and  Robin  Kelly,  who  never  before 
found  himself  puzzled  at  the  dream  of  any  other  person, 
did  not  know  what  to  think  of  his  own. 

Robin  was  well  acquainted  with  the  Giant's  Stairs*—  as, 
indeed,  who  is  not  that  knows  the  harbor?  They  con 
sist  of  great  masses  of  rock,  which,  piled  one  above  an 
other,  rise  like  a  flight  of  steps  from  very  deep  water, 
against  the  bold  cliff  of  Carrigmahon.  Nor  arc  they 
badly  suited  for  stairs  to  those  who  have  legs  of  sufficient 
length  to  stride  over  a  moderate-sized  house,  or  to  enable 
them  to  clear  the  space  of  a  mile  in  a  hop,  step,  and  jump. 
Both  these  feats  the  giant  MacMahon  was  said  to  have 
performed  in  the  days  of  Finnian  glory  ;  and  the  common 
tradition  of  the  country  placed  his  dwelling  within  the, 
cliff  up  whose  side  the  stairs  led. 

Such  was  the  impression  which  the  dream  made  on 
Robin,  that  he  determined  to  put  its  truth  to  the  test.  It 
occurred  to  him,  however,  before  setting  out  on  this 
adventure,  that  a  plow-iron  may  be  no  bad  companion, 
as,  from  experience,  he  knew  it  was  an  excellent  knock 
down  argument,  having  on  more  occasions  than  one  set 
tled  a  little  disagreement  very  quietly  ;  so,  putting  one 
on  b:  .boulder,  off  he  marched,  in  the  cool  of  the  even 
ing,  through ilaun  a  Thowk  (the  Hawk's  Glen)  to  Monks- 
town.  Here  an  old  gossip  of  his  (Tom  C'laneey  by  name) 
lived,  who,  on  hearing  Robin's  dream,  promised  him  the 
use  of  his  skiff,  and,  moreover,  offered  to  assist  in  rowing 
it  to  the  Giant's  Stairs. 

After  a  supper,  which  was  of  the  best,  they  embarked. 
It  was  a  beautiful  still  night,  and  the  little  boat  glided 
swiftly  along.  The  regular  dip  of  the  oars,  the  distant 
song  of  the  sailor,  and  sometimes  the  voice  of  a  belated 
traveler  at  th.  Jerry  of  Carrigaloe,  alone  broke  the  quiet 
ness  of  the  land  and  sea  and  sky.  The  tide  was  in  their 
favor,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Robin  and  his  gossip  rested 
on  their  oars  under  the  dark  shadow  of  the  Giant's 
Stairs.  Robin  looked  anxiously  for  the  entrance  to 
the  Giant's  palace,  which,  it  was  said,  may  be  found 


358  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

by  any  one  seeking  it  at  midnight;  but  no  such  en 
trance  could  he  see.  His  impatience  had  hurried  him 
there  before  that  time,  and  after  waiting  a  consider 
able  space  in  a  state  of  suspense  not  to  be  described, 
Robin,  with  pure  vexation,  could  not  help  exclaiming  to 
his  companion,  "  'Tis  a  pair  of  fools  we  are,  Tom  Clancey, 
for  coming  here  at  all  on  the  strength  of  a  dream." 

"  And  whose  doing  is  it,"  said  Tom,  "  but  your  own  ?  " 
At  the  moment  he  spoke  they  perceived  a  faint 
glimmering  of  light  to  proceed  from  the  cliff,  which 
gradually  increased  until  a  porch  big  enough  for  a  king's 
palace  unfolded  itself  almost  on  a  level  with  the  water. 
They  pulled  the  skiff  directly  towards  the  opening,  and 
Robin  Kelly,  seizing  his  plow-iron,  boldly  entered  with 
a  strong  hand  and  a  stout  heart.  Wild  and  strange  was 
that  entrance,  the  whole  of  which  appeared  formed  of 
grim  and  grotesque  faces,  blending  so  strangely  each  with 
the  other  that  it  was  impossible  to  define  any  :  the  chin 
of  one  formed  the  nose  of  another ;  what  appeared  to  be 
a  fixed  and  stern  eye,  if  dwelt  upon,  changed  to  a  gaping 
mouth ;  and  the  lines  of  the  lofty  forehead  grew  into  a 
majestic  and  flowing  beard.  The  more  Robin  allowed 
himself  to  contemplate  the  forms  around  him,  the  more 
terrific  they  became ;  and  the  stony  expression  of  this 
crowd  of  faces  assumed  a  savage  ferocity  as  his  imagina 
tion  converted  feature  after  feature  into  a  different  shape 
and  character.  Losing  the  twilight  in  which  these  indefi 
nite  forms  were  visible,  he  advanced  through  a  dark  and 
devious  passage,  whilst  a  deep  and  rumbling  noise  sounded 
as  if  the  rock  was  about  to  close  upon  him,  and  swal 
low  him  up  alive  forever.  Now,  indeed,  poor.  Rob*in  felt 
afraid. 

"  Robin,  Robin,"  said  he,  "  if  yjDU  were  a  fool  for  coming 
here,  what  in  the  name  of  fortune  are  you  now  ?  "  But, 
as  before,  he  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  he  saw  a  small 
light  twinkling  through  the  darkness  of  the  distance,  like 
a  star  in  the  midnight  sky.  To  retreat  was  out  of  the 
question  ;  for  so  many  turnings  and  windings  were  in  the 


THE  GIANT'S  STAIRS.  359 

passage  that  he  considered  he  had  but  little  chance  of 
making  his  way  back.  lie,  therefore,  proceeded  towards 
the  bit  of  light,  and  came  at  last  into  a  spacious  chamber, 
from  the  roof  of  which  hung  the  solitary  lam})  that  had 
guided  him.  Emerging  from  such  profound  gloom,  the 
single  lamp  afforded  Robin  abundant  light  to  discover 
several  gigantic  figures  seated  round  a  massive  stone 
table,  as  if  in  serious  deliberation,  but  no  word  disturbed 
the  breathless  silence  which  prevailed.  At  the  head  of 
this  table  sat  Mahon  MacMahon  himself,  whose  majestic 
beard  had  taken  root,  and  in  the  course  of  ages  grown 
into  the  stone  slab.  He  was  the  first  who  perceived 
Kobin  ;  and  instantly  starting  up,  drew  his  long  beard 
from  out  the  huge  piece  of  rock  in  such  haste  and  with  so 
sudden  a  jerk  that  it  was  shattered  into  a  thousand 
pieces. 

"  What  seek  you  ?"  he  demanded  in  a  voice  of  thun 
der. 

"  I  come,"  answered  Robin,  with  as  much  boldness  as 
he  could  put  on,  for  his  heart  was  almost  fainting  within 
him;  "I  come,"  said  he,  "to  claim  Philip  Roiiayne, 
whose  time  of  service  is  out  this  night." 

"  And  who  sent  you  here  ?  "  said  the  giant. 

"'  T was  of  my  own  accord  I  came,"  said  Robin. 

"  Then  you  must  single  him  out  from  among  my 
pages,"  said  the  giant ;  "  and  if  you  fix  on  the  wrong 
one,  your  life  is  the  forfeit.  "Follow  me."  He  led 
Robin  into  a  hall  of  vast  extent,  and  filled  with  lights  ; 
along  either  side  of  which  were  rows  of  beautiful  children, 
all  apparently  seven  years  old,  and  none  beyond  that  age, 
dressed  in  green,  and  every  one  exactly  dressed  alike. 

"  Here,"  said  Mahon,  "  you  are  free  to  take  Philip  Ro- 
nayne  if  you  will ;  but,  remember,  I  give  but  one  choice." 

Robin  was  sadly  perplexed ;  for  there  were  hundreds 
upon  hundreds  of  children ;  and  he  had  no  very  clear 
recollection  of  the  boy  Le  sought.  But  he  walked  along 
the  hall,  by  the  side  o::'  Mahon,  as  if  nothing  was  the 
matter,  although  his  great  iron  dress  clanked  fearfully 


360  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

at  every  step,  sounding  louder  than  Robin's  own  sledge 
battering  on  bis  anvil. 

They  had  nearly  reached  the  end  without  speaking, 
when  Robin,  seeing  that  the  only  means  he  had  was  to 
make  friends  with  the  giant,  determined  to  try  what 
effect  a  few  soft  words  might  have. 

"  'Tis  a  fine  wholesome  appearance  the  poor  children 
carry,"  remarked  Robin,  "  although  they  have  been  here 
so  long  shut  out  from  the  fresh  air  and  the  blessed  light 
of  heaven.  'Tis  tenderly  your  honor  must  have  reared 
them ! " 

"  Ay,"  said  the  giant,  "  that  is  true  for  you  ;  so  give  me 
your  hand ;  for  you  are,  I  believe,  a  very  honest  fellow  for 
a  blacksmith." 

Robin  at  the  first  look  did  not  much  like  the  huge  size 
of  the  hand,  and,  therefore,  presented  his  plow-iron, 
which  the  giant  seizing,  twisted  in  his  grasp  round  and 
round  again  as  if  it  had  been  a  potato  stalk.  On  seeing 
this  all  the  children  set  up  a  shout  of  laughter.  In  the 
midst  of  their  mirth  Robin  thought  he  heard  his  name 
called ;  and  all  ear  and  eye,  he  put  his  hand  on  the  boy 
who  he  fancied  had  spoken,  crying  out  at  the  same  time, 
"  Let  me  live  or  die  for  it,  but  this  is  young  Phil  Ronayne." 

"  It  is  Philip  Ronayne — happy  Philip  Ronayne,"  said  his 
young  companions ;  and  in  an  instant  the  hall  became 
dark.  Crashing  noises  were  heard,  and  all  was  in  strange 
confusion  ;  but  Robin  held  fast  his  prize,  and  found  him 
self  lying  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the  morning  at  the  head  of 
the  Giant's  Stairs  with  the  boy  clasped  in  his  arms. 

Robin  had  plenty  of  gossips  to  spread  the  story  of  his 
wonderful  adventure  :  Passage,  Monkstown,  Carrigaline — 
the  whole  barony  of  Kerricurrihy  rung  with  it. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure,  Robin,  it  is  young  Phil  Ronayne 
you  have  brought  back  with  you  ?  "  was  the  regular  ques 
tion  ;  for  although  the  boy  had  been  seven  years  away,  his 
appearance  now  was  just  the  sarr.e  as  on  the  day  he  was 
missed.  He  had  neither  grown  Caller  nor  older  in  look, 
and  he  spoke  of  things  which  had  happened  before  he  was 


A  LEUEND  OF  KNOCKMANY.  3G1 

carried  oil'  as  one  awakened  from  sloop,  or  as  if  they  had 
occurred  yesterday. 

"Am  I  sure  i*  Well,  that's  a  queer  question,"  was 
Robin's  reply;  seeing  the  boy  has  the  blue  eyes  of  the 
mother,  with  the  foxy  hair  of  the  father;  to  say  nothing 
of  t]\u  jt'O'tt/  wart  on  the  right  side  of  his  little  nose." 

However  Robin  Kelly  may  have  been  questioned,  the 
worthy  couple  of  Ronayne's  Court  doubted  not  that  he 
was  the  deliverer  of  their  child  from  the  power  of  the 
giant  MaoMahon  ;  and  the  reward  they  bestowed  on  him 
equalled  their  gratitude. 

Philip  Ronayne  lived  to  he  an  old  man;  and  he  was 
remarkable  to  the  day  of  his  death  for  his  skill  in  work 
ing  brass  and  iron,  which  it  was  believed  he  had  learned 
during  his  seven  years' apprenticeship  to  the  giant  Million 
MacMahon. 


A  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKMANY. 

WILLIAM    CARLKTOX.* 

WHAT  Irish  man,  woman,  or  child  has  not  heard  of  our 
renowned  Hibernian  Hercules,  the  great  and  glorious  Fin 
M'Coul  ?  Not  one,  from  Cape  Clear  to  the  Giant's  Cause- 

*  Carleton  says—"  Of  the  gray  stone  mentioned  in  this  legend, 
there  is  a  very  striking  and  melancholy  anecdote  to  be  told. 
Some  twelve  or  thirteen  years  ago,  a  gentleman  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  site  of  it  was  building  a  house,  and,  in  defiance  of  the  legend 
and  curse  connected  with  it.  he  resolved  to  break  it  up  and  use 
it.  It  was  with  some  difficulty,  however,  that  he  could  succeed 
in  getting  his  laborers  to  have  anything  to  do  with  its  mutilation. 
Two  men,  however,  undertook  to  blast  it,  but,  somehow,  the  pro 
cess  of  ignition  being  mismanaged,  it  exploded  prematurely,  and 
one  of  them  was  killed.  This  coincidence  was  held  as  a  fulfilment 
of  the  curse  mentioned  in  the  legend.  I  have  heard  that  it  re 
mains  in  that  mutilated  state  to  the  present  day,  no  other  person 
being  found  who  had  the  hardihood  to  touch  it.  This  stone,  be- 


362  IlilSH  FAIIiY  TALES. 

way,  nor  from  that  bark  again  to  Cap*-  Clear.  And,  by- 
the-way,  speaking  of  the  (Rant's  Cau>eway  brings  me  at 
once  to  the  beginning  of  my  story.  Well,  it  so  happened 
that  Fin  and  his  gigantic  relatives  were  all  working  at  the 
Causeway,  in  order  to  make  a  bridge,  or  what  was  still 
better,  a  good  stoui  pad-road,  across  to  Scotland ;  when 
Fin,  who  was  very  fond  of  his  wife  Oonagh,  took  it  into  his 
lie; id  that  he  would  go  home  and  see  how  the  poor  woman 
got  on  in  his  absence.  To  be  sure,  Fin  was  a  true  Irish 
man,  and  so  the  sorrow  thing  in  life  brought  him  back,  only 
to  see  that  she  was  snug  and  comfortable,  and,  alx>ve  all 
things,  that  she  got  her  rest  well  at  night ;  for  he  knew  that 
the  poor  woman,  when  he  was  with  her,  used  to  l>e  subject 
to  nightly  qualms  and  configurations,  that  kept  him  very 
anxious.  d»-i -*-nt  man,  striving  to  keep  her  up  to  the  good 
spirits  and  health  that  she  had  when  they  were  first  married. 
So,  accordingly,  he  pulled  up  a  fir-tree,  and,  after  lopping 
off  the  roots  and  branches,  made  a  walking-stick  of  it,  and 
set  out  on  his  way  to  Oonagh. 

Oonagh,  or  rather  Fin,  lived  at  this  time  on  the  very 
tip-top  of  Knockrnany  Hill,  which  faces  a  cousin  of  its 
own  called  Cullamore,  that  rises  up,  half-hill,  half-moun 
tain,  on  the  opposite  side — east-east  by  south,  as  the 
sailors  say,  when  they  wish  to  puzzle  a  landsman. 

Now,  the  truth  is,  for  it  must  come  out,  that  honest 
Fin's  affection  for  his  wife,  though  cordial  enough  in 
itself,  was  by  no  mariner  of  means  the  real  cause  of  his 
journey  home.  There  was  at  that  time  another  giant, 
named  Cucullin — some  say  he  was  Irish,  and  some  say  he 
^cotch — but  whether  Scotch  or  Irish,  sorrow  doubt 
of  it  but  he  was  a  tarytr.  Xo  other  giant  of  the  day  could 
stand  before  him ;  and  such  was  his  strength,  that,  when 
well  vexed,  he  could  give  a  stamp  that  shook  the  country 

fore  it  was  disfigured,  exactly  resembled  that  which  the  country 
people  term  a  miscaun  of  butter,  which  is  precisely  the  shape  of 
a  complete  prism,  a  circumstance,  no  doubt,  which,  in  the  fertile 
imagination  of  the  old  Senachies,  gave  ri.se  to  the  superstition 
annexed  to  it." 


A  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKMANY.  303 

about  him.  The  fame  and  name  of  him  went  far  and 
near ;  and  nothing  in  the  shape  of  a  man,  it  was  said,  had 
any  chance  with  him  in  a  light.  Whether  the  story  is 
true  or  not,  I  cannot  say,  hut  the  report  went  that,  by  one 
blow  of  his  lists  he  flattened  a  thunderbolt,  and  kept  it  in 
his  pocket,  in  the  shape  of  a  pancake,  to  show  to  all  his 
enemies,  when  they  were  about  to  light  him.  Undoubtedly 
lie  had  given  every  giant  in  Ireland  a  considerable  beating, 
barring  Fin  M'Coul  himself;  and  lie  swore,  by  the  solemn 
contents  of  Moll  Kelly's  Primer,  that  he  would  never  rest, 
night  or  day,  winter  or  summer,  till  he  would  serve  Fin 
with  the  same  sauce,  if  he  could  catch  him.  Fin,  how 
ever,  who  no  doubt  was  the  cock  of  the  walk  on  his  own 
dunghill,  bad  a  strong  disinclination  to  meet  a  giant  who 
conld  make  a  young  earthquake,  or  flatten  a  thunderbolt 
when  he  was  angry  ;  so  he  accordingly  kept  dodging  about 
from  place  to  place,  not  much  to  his  credit  as  a  Trojan,  to 
be  sure,  whenever  lie  happened  to  get  the  hard  word  that 
Cuculliii  was  on  the  scent  of  him.  This,  then,  was  the 
marrow  of  the  whole  movement,  although  he  put  it  on 
his  anxiety  to  see  Oonagh ;  and  I  am  nni  saying  but  there 
was  some  truth  in  that  too.  However,  the  short  and  long 
of  it  was,  with  reverence  be  it  spoken,  that  he  heard 
('uciillin  was  coming  to  the  Causeway  to  have  a  trial  of 
strength  with  him;  and  he  was  naturally  enough  seized, 
in  consequence,  with  a  very  warm  and  sudden  lit  of  affec 
tion  for  his  wife,  poor  woman,  who  was  delicate  in  her 
health,  and  leading,  besides,  a  very  lonely,  uncomfortable 
life  of  it  (he  assured  them)  in  his  absence,  lie  accord 
ingly  pulled  up  the  fir-tree,  as  I  said  before,  and  having 
.<>•// ';'A/W  it  into  a  walking-stick,  set  out  on  his  affectionate 
travels  to  see  his  darling  Oonagh  on  the  top  of  Knock- 
many,  by  the  way. 

In  truth,  to  state  the  suspicions  of  the  country  at  the 
time,  the  people  wondered  very  much  why  it  was  that 
Fin  selected  such  a  windy  spot  for  his  dwelling-house, 
and  they  even  went  so  far  as  to  tell  him  as  much. 

'•What  can  you   mane,  Mr.  M'Coul,"  said    they,    "by 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

pitching  your  tent  upon  the  tup  uf  Knoc.kmany,  where  you 
never  are  without  a  breeze,  day  or  night,  winter  or  sum 
mer,  and  where  you're  often  forced  to  take  your  nightcap  * 
without  either  going  to  bed  or  turning  up  your  little  lin 
ger  ;  ay,  an'  where,  besides  this,  there's  the  sorrow's  own 
want  of  water  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Fin,  "  ever  since  I  was  the  height  of  a 
round  tower,  I  was  known  to  be  fond  of  having  a  good 
prospect  of  my  own  ;  and  where  the  dickens,  neighbors, 
could  I  find  a  better  spot  for  a  good  prospect  than  the  top 
of  Knockmany  ?  As  for  water,  I  am  sinking  a  pump,t 
and,  plase  goodness,  as  soon  as  the  Causeway's  made,  I 
intend  to  finish  it." 

NOAV,  this  was  more  of  Fin's  philosophy ;  for  the  real  state 
of  the  case  was,  that  he  pitched  upon  the  top  of  Knockmany 
in  order  that  he  might  be  able  to  see  Cucullin  coming 
toward  the  house,  and,  of  course,  that  he  himself  might  go 
to  look  after  his  distant  transactions  in  other  parts  of  the 
country,  rather  than — but  no  matter — we  do  not  wish 
to  be  too  hard  on  Fin.  All  we  have  to  say  is,  that  if  he 
wanted  a  spot  from  which  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout — and, 
between  ourselves,  he  did  want  it  grievously — barring 
Slieve  Croob,  or  Slieve  Donard,  or  its  own  cousin,  Cul- 
lamore,  he  could  not  find  a  neater  or  more  convenient 
situation  for  it  in  the  sweet  and  sagacious  province  of 
Ulster. 

"  God  save  all  here ! "  said  Fin,  good-humoredly,  on 
putting  his  honest  face  into  his  own  door. 

"  Musha,  Fin,  avick,  an'  you're  welcome  home  to  your 
own  Oonagh,  you  daiiin'  bully."  Here  followed  a  smack 
that  is  said  to  have  made  the  waters  of  the  lake  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  curl,  as  it  were,  with  kindness  and 
sympathy. 

"  Faith,"  said  Fin,  "  beautiful ;  an'  how  are  you,  Oonagh 

*  A  common  name  for  the  cloud  or  rack  that  hangs,  as  a  fore 
runner  of  wet  weather,  about  the  peak  of  a  mountain. 

f  There  is  upon  the  top  of  this  hill  an  opening  that  bears  a  very 
strong  resemblance  to  the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano. 


A  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKMANY.  305 

— and  how  did  you  sport  your  ligure  during  my  absence 
my  bilberry  ?  " 

"Never  a  merrier — as  bouncing  a  grass  widow  as  ever 
there  was  in  sweet  '  Tyrone  among  the  bushes.'  ' 

Fin  gave  a  short,  good-humored  cough,  and  laughed 
most  heartily,  to  show  her  how  much  he  was  delighted 
that  she  made  herself  happy  in  his  absence. 

"  An'  what  brought  you  home  so  soon,  Fin?  "  said  she. 

"  Why,  avourneen,"  said  Fin,  putting  in  his  answer  in 
the  proper  way,  "never  the  thing  but  the  purest  of  love 
and  affection  for  yourself.  Sure  you  know  that's  truth, 
anyhow,  Oonngh." 

Fin  spent  two  or  three  happy  days  with  Oonagh,  and 
felt  himself  very  comfortable,  considering  the  dread  ho 
had  of  (1ucullin.  This,  however,  grew  upon  him  so  much 
that  his  wife  could  not  but  perceive  something  lay  on  his 
mind  which  he  kept  altogether  to  himself.  Let  a  woman 
alone,  in  the  meantime,  for  ferreting  or  wheedling  ;l 
secret  out  of  her  good  man,  when  she  wishes.  Fin  was 
a  proof  of  this. 

"It's  this  Cucullin,"  said  he,  "that's  troubling  me. 
When  the  fellow  gets  angry,  and  begins  to  stamp,  he'll 
shake  you  a  whole  townland ;  and  it's  well  known  that 
he  can  stop  a  thunderbolt,  for  he  always  carries  one  about 
him  in  the  shape  of  a  pancake,  to  show  to  any  one  that 
might  misdoubt  it." 

As  he  spoke,  he  clapped  his  thumb  in  his  mouth,  which 
he  always  did  when  he  wanted  to  prophesy,  or  to  know 
anything  that  happened  in  his  absence  ;  and  the  wife, 
who  knew  what  he  did  it  for,  said,  very  sweetly, 

"  Fin,  darling,  I  hope  you  don't  bite  your  thumb  at  me, 
dear  ?  " 

"  Xo,"  said  Fin ;  "  but  I  bite  my  thumb,  acushla,"  said 
he. 

"  Yes,  jewel ;  but  take  care  and  don't  draw  blood,"  said 
she.  "  Ah,  Fin  !  don't,  my  bully— don't." 

"He's  coming,"  said  Fin;  "I  see  him  below  Dun- 
gannon." 


:\Ct(\  IRISH    KAIUY  TALES. 

"Thank  goodness,  dear!  JIM'  who  is  it,  avick?  Glory 
be  to  God  !  " 

"That  baste,  Oncullin,"  replied  Fin;  "and  how  to 
manage  I  don't  know.  If  I  run  away,  I  am  disgraced ; 
a-nd  I  know  that  sooner  or  later  I  must  meet  him,  for  my 
thumb  tells  me  so." 

"  When  will  he  be  here  ?  " 

"To-morrow,  about  two  o'clock,"  replied  Fin,  with  a 
groan. 

"  Well,  my  bully,  don't  be  cast  down,"  said  Oonagh  ; 
"  depend  on  me,  and  maybe  I'll  bring  you  better  out  of 
this  scrape  than  ever  you  could  bring  yourself,  by  your 
rule  o'  thumb." 

This  quieted  Fin's  heart  very  much,  for  lie  knew  that 
Oonagh  was  hand  and  glove  with  the  fairies ;  and,  in 
deed,  to  tell  the  truth,  she  was  supposed  to  be  a  fairy 
herself.  If  she  was,  however,  she  must  have  been  a  kind- 
hearted  one,  for  by  accounts,  she  never  did  anything  but 
good  in  the  neighborhood. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Oonagh  had  a  sister  named 
Granua,  living  opposite  them,  on  the  very  top  of  Cullamore, 
which  I  have  mentioned  already,  and  this  Granua  was  quite 
as  powerful  as  herself.  The  beautiful  valley  that  lies  be 
tween  them  is  not  more  than  about  three  or  four  miles 
broad,  so  that  of  a  summer's  evening,  Granua  and  Oonagh 
were  able  to  hold  many  an  agreeable  conversation 
across  it,  from  the  one  hill-top  to  the  other.  Upon  this 
occasion  Oonagh  resolved  to  consult  her  sister  as  to  what 
was  best  to  be  done  in  the  difficulty  that  surrounded 
them. 

"  Granua,"  said  she,  "  are  you  at  home  ?  " 

"  Xo,"  said  the  other ;  "  I'm  picking  bilberries  in  Al- 
thadhawan  "  (Anglice,  the  Devil's  Glen). 

"  Well,"  said  Oonagh,  "  get  up  to  the  top  of  Cullamore, 
look  about  you,  and  then  tell  us  what  you  see." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Granua  ;  after  a  few  minutes,  "  I 
am  there  now." 

"  What  do  you  see  ?  "  asked  the  other. 


A  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKMANY.  367 

"  Goodness  be  about  us ! "  exclaimed  Grauua,  "  I  see 
the  biggest  giant  that  ever  was  known  coining  up  from 
Dungannon." 

"  Ay,"  said  Oonagh,  "  there's  our  difficulty.  That  giant 
is  the  great  Cucullin  ;  and  lie's  now  commin'up  to  leather 
Fin.  What's  to  be  done;"' 

"  Til  call  to  him,"  slie  replied,  "  to  come  up  to  Cullamore 
and  refresh  himself,  and  maybe  that  will  give  you  and 
Fin  time  to  think  of  some  plan  to  get  yourselves  out  of 
the  scrape.  But,"  she  proceeded,  "  I'm  short  of  butler, 
having  in  the  house  only  half-a-dozen  firkins,  and  as  I'm 
to  have  a  few  giants  and  giantesses  to  spend  the  evenin' 
with  me,  I'd  feel  thankful,  Oonagh,  if  you'd  throw  me  up 
fifteen  or  sixteen  tubs,  or  the  largest  miscaun  you  have 
got,  and  you'll  oblige  me  very  much." 

"I'll  do  that  with  a  heart  and  a-half,"  replied  Oonagh  ; 
"and,  indeed,  Granna,  I  feel  myself  under  great  obliga 
tions  to  you  for  your  kindness  in  keeping  him  off  of  us 
till  we  see  what  can  be  done;  for  what  would  become  of 
us  all  if  anything  happened  Fin,  poor  man." 

She  accordingly  got  the  largest  miscaun  of  butler  she 
had — which  might  be  about  the  weight  of  a  eouple  a 
dozen  mill-stones,  so  that  you  may  easily  judge  of  its  si/e 
— and  calling  up  to  her  sister,  "Granua,"  said  she,  "are 
you  ready  ?  Fin  going  to  throw  you  up  a  miscaun,  so  lie 
prepared  to  catch  it." 

"  I  will,"  said  the  other;  "a  good  throw  now,  and  take 
care  it  does  not  fall  short." 

Oonagh  threw  it;  but,  in  consequence  of  her  anxiety 
about  Fin  and  Cucullin,  she  forgot  to  say  the  charm  that 
was  to  send  it  up,  so  that,  instead  of  reaching  Cullamore, 
as  she  expected,  it  fell  about  half-way  between  the  two 
hills,  at  the  edge  of  the  Broad  Bog  near  Augher. 

"My  curse  upon  you!"  she  exclaimed;  "you've  dis 
graced  me.  I  now  change  you  into  a  gray  stone.  Lie 
there  as  a  testimony  of  what  has  happened  ;  and  may  evil 
betide  the  first  living  man  that  will  ever  attempt  to  re 
move  or  injure  you !  " 


3CS  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

And,  sure  enough,  there  it  lies  to  this  day,  with  the 
mark  of  the  four  fingers  and  thumb  imprinted  in  it, 
exactly  as  it  came  out  of  her  hand. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Granua,  "  I  must  only  do  the  best 
I  can  with  Cucullin.  If  all  fail,  I'll  give  him  a  cast  of 
heather  broth  to  keep  the  wind  out  of  his  stomach,  or  a 
panada  of  oak-bark  to  draw  it  in  a  bit ;  but,  above  all 
things,  think  of  some  plan  to  get  Fin  out  of  the  scrape 
he's  in,  otherwise  he's  a  lost  man.  You  know  you  used 
to  be  sharp  and  ready-witted ;  and  my  own  opinion, 
Oonagh,  is,  that  it  will  go  hard  with  you,  or  you'll  outdo 
Cucullin  yet." 

She  then  made  a  high  smoke  on  the  top  of  the  hill, 
after  which  she  put  her  finger  in  her  mouth,  and  gave 
three  whistles,  and  by  that  Cucullin  knew  he  was  invited 
to  Cullamore — for  this  was  the  way  that  the  Irish  long 
ago  gave  a  sign  to  all  strangers  and  travelers,  to  let  them 
know  they  were  welcome  to  come  and  take  share  of  what 
ever  was  going. 

In  the  meantime,  Fin  was  very  melancholy,  and  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  or  how  to  act  at  all.  Cucullin  was  an 
ugly  customer,  110  doubt,  to  meet  with ;  and,  moreover, 
the  idea  of  the  confounded  "  cake  "  aforesaid  flattened  the 
very  heart  within  him.  What  chance  could  he  have,  strong 
and  brave  though  he  was,  with  a  man  Avlio  could,  when 
put  in  a  passion,  walk  the  country  into  earthquakes  and 
knock  thunderbolts  into  pancakes  ?  The  thing  was  im 
possible  ;  and  Fin  knew  not  on  what  hand  to  turn  him. 
Right  or  left — backward  or  forward — where  to  go  he 
could  form  no  guess  whatsoever. 

"  Oonagh,"  said  he,  "  can  you  do  nothing  for  me  ? 
Where's  all  your  invention?  Am  I  to  be  skivered  like  a 
rabbit  before  your  eyes,  and  to  have  my  name  disgraced 
forever  in  the  sight  of  all  my  tribe,  and  me  the  best  man 
among  them?  How  am  I  to  fight  this  man-mountain— 
this  huge  cross  between  an  earthquake  and  a  thunder 
bolt? — with  a  pancake  in  his  pocket  that  was  once— 

*'  Be  easy,  Fin,"  replied  Oonagh ;  "  troth,  I'm  ashamed 


A  LEGEND  OF  KXOCKMANY.  3G9 

of  you.  Keep  your  toe  in  your  pump  will  you  ?  Talk 
ing  of  pancakes,  maybe  we'll  give  him  as  good  as  any  he 
brings  with  him — thunderbolt  or  otherwise.  If  I  don't 
treat  him  to  as  smart  feeding  as  he's  got  this  many  a  day, 
never  trust  Oonagh  again.  Leave  him  to  me,  and  do  just 
as  I  bid  you." 

This  relieved  Fin  very  much  ;  for,  after  all,  lie  had  great 
confidence  in  his  wife,  knowing,  as  he  did,  that  she  had 
got  him  out  of  many  a  quandary  before.  The  present, 
however,  was  the  greatest  of  all ;  but  still  he  began  to  get 
courage,  and  was  able  to  eat  his  victuals  as  usual.  ( )onagh 
then  drew  the  nine  woollen  threads  of  different  colors, 
which  she  always  did  to  find  out  the  best  Avay  of  succeed 
ing  in  anything  of  importance  she  went  about.  She  then 
platted  them  into  three  plats  with  three  colors  in  each, 
putting  one  on  her  right  arm,  one  round  her  heart,  and 
the  third  round  her  right  ankle,  for  then  she  knew  that 
nothing  could  fail  with  her  that  she  undertook. 

Having  everything  now  prepared,  she  sent  round  to 
the  neighbors  and  borrowed  one-and- twenty  iron  griddles, 
which  she  took  and  kneaded  into  the  hearts  of  one-and- 
twenty  cakes  of  bread,  and  these  she  baked  on  the  tire  in 
the  usual  way,  setting  them  aside  in  the  cupboard  accord 
ing  as  they  were  done.  She  then  put  down  a  large  pot 
of  new  milk,  which  she  made  into  curds  and  whey,  and 
gave  Fin  due  instructions  how  to  use  the  curds  when  C'u- 
culliii  should  come.  Having  done  all  this,  she  sat  down 
quite  contented,  waiting  for  his  arrival  on  the  next  day 
about  two  o'clock,  that  being  the  hour  at  which  he  was  ex 
pected — for  Fin  knew  as  much  by  the  sucking  of  his 
thumb.  Xow,  this  was  a  curious  property  that  Fin's 
thumb  had;  but,  notwithstanding  all  the  wisdom  and 
logie  he  used,  to  suck  out  of  it,  it  could  never  have  stood 
to  him  here  wen1  it  not  for  the  wit  of  his  wife.  In  this 
very  thing,  moreover,  he  was  very  much  resembled  by 
his  great  foe,  Cucullin  ;  for  it  was  well  known  that  tl:" 
huge  strength  he  possessed  all  lay  in  the  middle  finger 
of  his  right  hand,  and  that,  if  he  happened  by  any  mis- 
24 


37CT  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

chance  to  lose  it,  he  was  no  more,  notwithstanding  his 
bulk,  than  a  common  man. 

At  length,  the  next  day,  he  was  seen  coming  across  the 
valley,  and  Oonagh  knew  that  it  was  time  to  commence 
operations.  She  immediately  made  the  cradle,  and  de 
sired  Fin  to  lie  down  in  it,  and  cover  himself  up  with  the 
clothes. 

"  You  must  pass  for  you  own  child,"  said  she ;  "  so 
just  lie  there  snug,  and  say  nothing,  but  be  guided  by 
me."  This,  to  be  sure,  was  wormwood  to  Fin — I  mean 
going  into  the  cradle  in  such  a  cowardly  manner — but  he 
knew  Oonagh  well  ;  and  finding  that  he  had  nothing  else 
for  it,  Avith  a  very  rueful  face  he  gathered  himself  into  it, 
and  lay  snug,  as  she  had  desired  him. 

About  two  o'clock,  as  he  had  been  expected,  Cucullin 
came  in.  "  God  save  all  here  ! "  said  he ;  "  is  this  where 
the  great  Fin  M'Coul  lives  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is,  honest  man,"  replied  Oonagh ;  "  God 
save  you  kindly — won't  you  be  sitting?  " 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  says  he,  sitting  down  ;  "  you're 
Mrs.  M'Coul  I  suppose?" 

"  I  am,"  said  she  ;  "and  I  have  no  reason,  I  hope,  to  be 
ashamed  of  my  husband." 

"No,"  said  the  other,  "helms  the  name  of  being  the 
strongest  and  bravest  man  in  Ireland ;  but  for  all  that, 
there's  a  man  not  far  from  you  that's  very  desirous  of 
taking  a  shake  with  him.  Is  he  at  home  ?  " 

"  Why,  then,  no,"  she  replied  ;  "  and  if  ever  a  man  left 
his  house  in  a  fury,  he  did.  It  appears  that  someone  told 
him  of  a  big  basthoon  of  a  giant  called  Cucullin  being 
down  at  the  Causeway  to  look  for  him,  and  so  he  set  out 
there  to  try  if  he  could  catch  him.  Troth,  I  hope,  for  the 
pom-  giant's  sake,  he  won't  meet  with  him,  for  if  he  does, 
Fin  will  make  paste  of  him  at  once." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  I  am  Cucullin,  and  1  have  been 
seeking  him  these  twelve,  months,  but  he  always  kept 
clear  of  me  ;  and  I  will  never  rest  night  or  day  till  I  lay 
my  hand;,  on  him." 


A  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKMANY.  371 

At  this  Oonagh  set  up  a  loud  laugh,  of  great  contempt, 
by- the-  way,  and  looked  at  him  as  if  he  was  only  a  mere 
handful  of  a  man. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  Fin  ?"  said  she,  changing  her  manner 
all  at  once. 

u  1  low  could  I  ?  "  said  he  ;  "  he  always  took  care  to  keep 
his  distance.1' 

"I  thought  so,'1  she  replied;  "1  judged  as  much  ;  and 
if  von  take  my  advice,  you  poor-looking  creature,  you'll 
pray  night  and  day  that  you  may  never  see  him,  for  I  tell 
you  it  will  be  a  black  day  for  you  when  you  do.  .But,  in 
the,  meantime,  you  perceive  that  the  wind's  on  the  door, 
and  as  Fin  himself  is  from  home,  maybe  you'd  be  civil 
enough  to  turn  the  house,  for  it's  always  what  Fin  docs 
when  lie's  here." 

This  was  a  startler  even  to  Cucullin  ;  but  he  got  up, 
however,  and  after  pulling  the  middle  linger  of  his  right 
hand  until  it  cracked  three  times,  he  went  outside,  and 
getting  his  arms  about  the  house,  completely  turned  it  as 
she1  bad  wished.  When  Fin  saw  this,  he  felt  a  certain 
description  of  moisture,  which  shall  be  nameless,  oozing 
out  through  every  pore  of  his  skin  ;  but  Oonagh,  depend 
ing  upon  her  woman's  wit,  felt  not  a  whit  daunted. 

"  Arrah,  then,"  said  she,  "  as  you  are  so  civil,  maybe 
you'd  do  another  obliging  turn  for  us,  as  Fin's  not  here  to 
do  it  himself.  You  see,  after  this  long  stretch  of  dry 
weather  we've  had,  we  feel  very  badly  oft'  for  want  of 
water.  Now,  Fin  says  there's  a  tine  spring-well  some 
where  under  the  rocks  behind  the  hill  here  below,  and  it 
was  his  intention  to  pull  them  asunder  ;  but  having  heard 
of  you,  he  left  the  place  in  such  a  fury,  that  he  never 
thought  of  it.  Xow,  if  you  try  to  find  it,  troth  I'd  feel  it 
a  kindness." 

She  then  brought  Cucullin  down  to  see  the  place,  which 
was  then  all  one  solid  rock ;  and,  after  looking  at  it  for 
some  time,  he  cracked  his  right  middle  finger  nine  times, 
and,  stooping  down,  tore  a  cleft  about  four  hundred  feet 
deep,  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  which  has  since 


372  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

been  christened  by  the  name  of  Lumford's  Glen.  Tin's 
IVtit  nearly  threw  Oonagh  herself  off  her  guard  ;  but  what 
won't  a  woman's  sagacity  and  presence  of  mind  accom 
plish  ? 

"  You'll  now  come  in,"  said  she,  "  and  eat  a  bit  of  such 
humble  fare  as  we  can  give  you.  Fin,  even  although  he 
and  you  are  enemies,  would  scorn  not  to  treat  you  kindly 
in  his  own  house  ;  and,  indeed,  if  I  didn't  do  it  even  in 
his  absence,  he  would  not  be  pleased  with  me." 

She  accordingly  brought  him  in,  and  placing  half-a-dozen 
of  the  cakes  we  spoke  of  before  him,  together  with  a  can 
or  two  of  butter,  a  side  of  boiled  bacon,  and  a  stack  of 
cabbage,  slie  desired  him  to  help  himself- — for  this,  be  it 
known,  was  long  before  the  invention  of  potatoes. 
Cucullin,  who,  by  the  way,  Avas  a  glutton  as  well  as  a  hero, 
put  one  of  the  cakes  in  his  mouth  to  take  a  huge  whack 
out  of  it,  when  both  Fin  and  Oonagh  were  stunned  with 
a  noise  that  resembled  something  between  a  growl  and  a 
yell.  "  Blood  and  fury  !  "  he  shouted  ;  "  how  is  this  ? 
Here  are  two  of  my  teeth  out !  What  kind  of  bread  is 
this  you  gave  me  ?  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Oonagh  coolly. 

"  Matter !  "  shouted  the  other  again  ;  "  why,  here  are  the 
two  best  teeth  in  my  head  gone." 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "that's  Fin's  bread — the  only  bread  lie 
ever  eats  when  at  home  ;  but,  indeed,  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  nobody  can  eat  it  but  himself,  and  that  child  in  the 
cradle  there.  I  thought,  however,  that,  as  you  were 
reported  to  be  rather  a  stout  little  fellow  of  your  size,  you 
might  be  able  to  manage  it,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  affront 
a  man  that  thinks  himself  able  to  fight  Fin.  Here's  an 
other  cake — maybe  it's  not  so  hard  as  that." 

Cucullin  at  the  moment  was  not  only  hungry,  but  rav 
enous,  so  he  accordingly  made  a  fresh  set  at  the  second 
cake,  and  immediately  another  yell  was  heard  twice  as 
loud  as  the  first.  "  Thunder  and  giblets ! "  he  roared, 
"  take  your  bread  out  of  this,  or  I  will  not  have  a  tooth  in 
my  head  j  there's  another  pair  of  them  gone !  " 


A  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKMANY.  373 

"Well,  honest  man,"  replied  Oonagh,  "if  you're  not 
able  to  eat  the  bread,  say  so  quietly,  and  don't  be  waken 
ing  the  child  in  the  cradle  there.  There,  now,  he's  awake 
upon  mi'." 

Fin  now  gave  a  skirl  that  startled  the  giant,  as  coining 
from  such  a  youngster  as  he  was  represented  to  be. 
"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  I'm  hungry — get  me  something  to 
eat."  Oonagh  went  over,  and  putting  into  his  hand  a  cake 
t/mt  /Kid no  iiriddle  hi  /V,  Fin,  whose  appetite  in  the  mean 
time  was  sharpened  by  what  he  saw  going  forward,  soon 
made  it  disappear.  Cucullin  was  thunderstruck,  and 
secretly  thanked  his  stars  that  he  had  the  good  fortune  to 
miss  meeting  Fin,  for,  as  he  said  to  himself,  I'd  have  no 
chance  with  a  man  who  could  eat  such  bread  as  that, 
which  even  his  son  that's  but  in  his  cradle  can  munch  be 
fore  my  eyes. 

"  I'd  like  to  take  a  glimpse  at  the  lad  in  the  cradle,"  said 
lie  to  Oonagh;  "for  I  can  tell  you  that  the  infant  who 
can  manage  that  nutriment  is  no  joke  to  look  at,  or  to 
feed  of  a  scarce  summer." 

"With  all  the  veins  of  my  heart,"  replied  Oonagh; 
"get  up,  acushla,  and  show  this  decent  little  man  some 
thing  that  won't  be  unworthy  of  your  father,  Fin  M'Coul." 

Fin,  who  was  dressed  for  the  occasion  as  much  like  a 
boy  as  possible,  got  up,  and  bringing  Cucullin  out,  "  Are 
you  strong  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Thunder  an'  ounds  !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  "  what  a 
voice  in  so  small  a  chap  !  " 

"  Are  you  strong?"  said  Fin  again  ;  "are  you  able  to 
squeeze  water  out  of  that  white  stone  ?  "  he  asked,  putting 
one  into  Cucullin's  hand.  The  latter  squeezed  and  squeezed 
the  stone,  but  to  no  purpose  ;  he  might  pull  the  rocks  of 
Lumford's  Glen  asunder,  and  flatten  a  thunderbolt,  but  to 
squeeze  water  out  of  a  white  stone  was  beyond  his 
strength.  Fin  eyed  him  with  great  contempt,  as  he  kept 
straining  and  squeezing  and  squeezing  and  straining,  till 
he  got  black  in  the  face  with  the  efforts. 

"  Ah,  you're  a  poor   creature ! "   said   Fin.     "  You  a 


374  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

giant !  Give  me  the  stone  here,  and  then  I'll  show  what 
Fin's  little  son  can  do ;  you  may  then  judge  of  what  my 
daddy  himself  is." 

Fin  then  took  the  stone,  and  slyly  exchanging  it  for  the 
curds,  he  squeezed  the  latter  until  the  whey,  as  clear  as 
water,  oozed  out  in  a  little  shower  from  his  hand. 

"  I'll  now  go  in,"  said  he  "  to  my  cradle ;  for  I  scorn  to 
lose  my  time  with  any  one  that's  not  able  to  eat  my 
daddy's  bread,  or  squeeze  water  out  of  a  stone.  Bedad, 
you  had  better  be  off  out  of  this  before  he  comes  back ; 
for  if  he  catches  you,  it's  in  flummery  he'd  have  you  in 
two  minutes." 

Cucullin,  seeing  what  he  had  seen,  was  of  the  same 
opinion  himself ;  his  knees  knocked  together  with  the 
terror  of  Fin's  return,  and  he  accordingly  hastened  in  to 
bid  Oonagh  farewell,  and  to  assure  her,  that  from  that 
day  out,  he  never  wished  to  hear  of,  much  less  to  see,  her 
husband.  "  I  admit  fairly  that  I'm  not  a  match  for  him," 
said  he,  "  strong  as  I  am ;  tell  him  I  will  avoid  him  as  I 
would  the  plague,  and  that  I  will  make  myself  scarce  in 
this  part  of  the  country  while  I  live." 

Fin,  in  the  meantime,  had  gone  into  the  cradle,  where 
he  lay  very  quietly,  his  heart  at  his  mouth  with  delight 
that  Cucullin  was  about  to  take  his  departure,  without 
discovering  the  tricks  that  had  been  played  off  on  him. 

"  It's  well  for  you,"  said  Oonagh,  "  that  he  doesn't  hap 
pen  to  be  here,  for  it's  nothing  but  hawk's  meat  he'd 
make  of  you." 

"  I  know  that,"  says  Cucullin  ;  "  devil  a  thing  else  he'd 
make  of  me  ;  but  before  I  go,  will  you  let  me  feel  what 
kind  of  teeth  they  are  that  can  eat  griddle-bread  like 
that  ?  " — and  he  pointed  to  it  as  he  spoke. 

"  With  all  pleasure  in  life,"  said  she  ;  "  only,  as  they're 
far  back  in  his  head,  you  must  put  your  finger  a  good 
way  in." 

Cucullin  was  surprised  to  find  such  a  powerful  set  of 
grinders  in  one  so  young ;  but  he  was  still  much  more  so 
on  finding,  when  he  took  his  hand  from  Fin's  mouth,  that 


A  LEGEND  OF  KNOCKMANY.  ;^5 

he  had  left  the  very  finger  upon  which  his  whole  strength 
depended,  behind  him.  He  gave  one  loud  groan,  and  fell 
down  at  once  with  terror  and  weakness.  This  was  all 
Fin  wanted,  who  now  knew  that  his  most  powerful  and 
bitterest  enemy  was  completely  at  his  mercy.  He  in 
stantly  started  out  of  the  cradle,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  great  Cucullin,  that  was  for  such  a  length  of  time  the 
terror  of  him  and  all  his  followers,  lay  a  corpse  before 
him.  Thus  did  Fin,  through  the  wit  and  invention  of 
Oonagh,  his  wife,  succeed  in  overcoming  his  enemy  by 
stratagem,  which  lie  never  could  have  done  by  force:  and 
thus  also  is  it  proved  that  the  women,  if  they  bring  us 
into  many  an  unpleasant  scrape,  can  sometimes  succeed 
in  getting  us  out  of  others  that  are  as  bad. 


KINGS,  QUEENS,  PRINCESSES,  EARLS, 
ROBBERS. 

THE  TWELVE  WILD  GEESE.* 

PATRICK    KENNEDY. 

THERE  was  once  a  King  and  Queen  that  lived  very  hap 
pily  together,  and  they  had  twelve  sons  and  not  a  single 
daughter.  We  are  always  wishing  for  what  we  haven't, 
and  don't  dare  for  what  we  have,  and  so  it  was  with  the 
Queen.  One  day  in  winter,  when  the  bawn  was  covered 
with  snow,  she  was  looking  out  of  the  parlor  window,  and 
saw  there  a  calf  that  was  just  killed  by  the  butcher,  and 
a  raven  standing  near  it.  "  Oh,"  says  she,  "  if  I  had  only 
a  daughter  with  her  skin  as  white  as  that  snow,  her  cheeks 
as  red  as  that  blood,  and  her  hair  as  black  as  that  raven, 
I'd  give  away  every  one  of  my  twelve  sons  for  her."  The 
moment  she  said  the  word,  she  got  a  great  fright,  and  a 
shiver  went  through  her,  and  in  an  instant  after,  a  severe- 
looking  old  woman  stood  before  her.  "  That  was  a  wicked 
wish  you  made,"  said  she,  "  and  to  punish  you  it  will  be 
granted.  You  will  have  such  a  daughter  as  you  desire, 
but  the  very  day  of  her  birth  you  will  lose  your  other 
children."  She  vanished  the  moment  she  said  the  words. 

And  that  very  way  it  turned  out.  When  she  expected 
her  delivery,  she  had  her  children  all  in  a  large  room  of  the 
palace,  with  guards  all  around  it,  but  the  very  hour  her 
daughter  came  into  the  world,  the  guards  inside  and  outside 
heard  a  great  whirling,  and  whistling  and  the  twelve 
princes  were  seen  flying  one  after  another  out  through  the 

*  The  Fireside  Stories  of  Ireland. 
376 


THE  TWELVE  WILD  GEESE.  377 

open  window,  and  away  like  so  many  arrows  over  the 
woods.  Well,  the  king  was  in  great  grief  for  the  loss  of 
his  sons,  and  he  would  be  very  enraged  with  his  wife  if 
he  only  knew  that  she  was  so  much  to  blame  for  it. 

Every  one  called  the  little  princess  Snow-white-and-Rose- 
red  on  account  of  her  beautiful  complexion.  She  was  the 
most  loving  and  lovable  child  that  could  be  seen  anywhere. 
When  she  was  twelve  years  old  she  began  to  be  very  sad 
and  lonely,  and  to  torment  her  mother,  asking  her  about 
her  brothers  that  she  thought  were  dead,  for  none  up  to 
that  time  ever  told  her  the  exact  thing  that  happened 
them.  The  secret  was  weighing  very  heavy  on  the 
Queen's  conscience,  and  as  the  little  girl  persevered  in  her 
questions,  at  last  she  told  her.  "  Well,  mother,"  said  she,  "  it 
was  on  my  account  my  poor  brothers  wen;  changed  into 
wild  geese,  and  are  now  suffering  all  sorts  of  hardship ;  be 
fore  the  world  is  a  day  older,  I'll  be  off  to  seek  them,  and 
try  to  restore  them  to  their  own  shapes." 

The  King  and  Queen  had  her  well  watched,  but  all  was 
no  use.  Next  night  she  was  getting  through  the  woods 
that  surrounded  the  palace,  and  she  went  on  and  on  that 
night,  and  till  the  evening  of  next  day.  She  had  a  few 
cakes  with  her,  and  she  got  nuts,  and  muyoreens  (fruit  of 
the  sweet  briar),  and  some  sweet  crabs,  as  she  went  along. 
At  last  she  came  to  a  nice  wooden  house  just  at  sunset. 
There  was  fine  garden  round  it,  full  of  the  handsomest 
flowers,  and  a  gate  in  the  hedge.  She  went  in,  and  saw  a 
table  laid  out  with  twelve  plates,  and  twelve  knives  and 
forks,  and  twelve  spoons,  and  there  were  cakes,  and  cold 
wild  fowl,  and  fruit  along  with  the  plates,  and  there  was 
a  good  fire,  and  in  another  long  room  there  were  twelve 
beds.  Well,  while  she  was  looking  about  her  she  heard 
the  gate  opening,  and  footsteps  along  the  walk,  and  in 
came  twelve  young  men,  and  there  was  great  grief  and 
surprise  on  all  their  faces  when  they  laid  eyes  on  her. 
"  Oh,  what  misfortune  sent  you  here  ?  "  said  the  eldest. 
"  For  the  sake  of  a  girl  we  were  obliged  to  leave  our 
father's  court,  and  be  in  the  shape  of  wild  geese  all  day. 


378  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

That's  twelve  years  ago,  and  we  took  a  solemn  oath  that 
we  would  kill  the  first  young  girl  that  came  into  our 
hands.  It's  a  pity  to  put  such  an  innocent  and  handsome 
girl  as  you  are  out  of  the  world,  but  we  must  keep  our 
oath."  "But,"  said  she,  "I'm  your  only  sister,  that 
never  knew  anything  about  this  till  yesterday ;  and  I 
stole  away  from  our  father's  and  mother's  palace  last 
night  to  find  you  out  and  relieve  you  if  I  can."  Every 
one  of  them  clasped  his  hands,  and  looked  down  on  the 
floor,  and  you  could  hear  a  pin  fall  till  the  eldest  cried 
out,  "  A  curse  light  on  our  oath !  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 
"  I'll  tell  you  that,"  said  an  old  woman  that  appeared  at 
the  instant  among  them.  "  Break  your  wicked  oath, 
which  no  one  should  keep.  If  you  attempted  to  lay  an 
uncivil  finger  on  her  I'd  change  you  into  twelve  booliawi 
buis  (stalks  of  ragweed),  but  I  wish  well  to  you  as  well  as 
to  her.  She  is  appointed  to  be  your  deliverer  in  this  way. 
She  must  spin  and  knit  twelve  shirts  for  you  out  of  bog- 
down,  to  be  gathered  by  her  own  hands  on  the  moor  just 
outside  of  the  wood.  It  will  take  her  five  years  to  do  it, 
and  if  she  once  speaks,  or  laughs,  or  cries  the  whole  time, 
you  will  have  to  remain  wild  geese  by  day  till  you're 
called  out  of  the  world.  So  take  care  of  your  sister  ;  it  is 
worth  your  while."  The  fairy  then  vanished,  and  it  was 
only  a  strife  with  the  brothers  to  see  who  would  be  first 
to  kiss  and  hug  their  sister. 

So  for  three  long  years  the  poor  young  princess  was  oc 
cupied  pulling  bog-clown,  spinning  it,  and  knitting  it  into 
shirts,  and  at  the  end  of  the  three  years  she  had  eight  made. 
During  all  that  time,  she  never  spoke  a  word,  nor  laughed 
nor  cried  ;  the  last  was  the  hardest  to  refrain  from.  One 
find  day  she  was  sitting  in  the  garden  spinning,  when  in 
sprung  a  fine  greyhound  and  bounded  up  to  her,  and  laid 
his  paws  on  her  shoulder,  and  licked  her  forehead  and  her 
hair.  The  next  minute  a  beautiful  young  prince  rode  up  to 
the  little  garden  gate,  took  off  his  hat,  and  asked  for  leave 
to  come  in.  She  gave  him  a  little  nod,  and  in  he  walked. 
lie  made  ever  so  many  apologies  for  intruding,  and  asked 


THE  TWELVE  WILD  GEESE. 

her  ever  so  many  questions,  but  not  a  word  could  he  get 
out  of  her.  He  loved  her  so  much  from  the  first  moment, 
that  he  could  not  leave  her  till  he  told  her  he  was  king 
of  a  country  just  bordering  on  the  forest,  and  he  begged 
her  to  come  home  with  him,  and  be  his  wife.  She  couldn't 
help  loving  him  as  much  as  he  did  her,  and  though  she 
shook  her  head  very  often,  and  was  very  sorry  to  leave 
her  brothers,  at  last  she  nodded  her  head,  and  put  her 
hand  in  his.  She  knew  well  enough  that  the  good  fairy 
and  her  brothers  would  be  able  to  find  her  out.  Before 
she  went  she  brought  out  a  basket  holding  all  her  bog- 
down,  and  another  holding  the  eight  shirts.  The  at 
tendants  took  charge  of  these,  and  the  prince  placed  her 
before  him  on  his  horse.  The  only  thing  that  disturbed 
him  while  riding  along  was  the  displeasure  his  stepmother 
would  feel  at  what  he  had  done.  However,  lie  was  full 
master  at  home,  and  as  soon  as  he  arrived  lie  sent  for  tbe 
bishop,  got  his  bride  nicely  dressed,  and  the  marriage 
was  celebrated,  the  bride  answering  by  signs.  lie  knew 
by  her  manners  she  was  of  high  birth,  and  no  two  could 
be  fonder  of  each  other. 

The  wicked  stepmother  did  all  she  could  to  make  mis 
chief,  saying  she  was  sure  she  was  only  a  woodman's 
daughter;  but  nothing  could  disturb  the  young  king's 
opinion  of  his  wife.  In  good  time  the  young  queen  was 
delivered  of  a  beautiful  boy,  and  the  king  was  so  glad  he 
hardly  knew  what  to  do  for  joy.  All  the  grandeur  of  the 
christening  and  the  happiness  of  the  parents  tormented 
the  bad  woman  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  and  she  deter 
mined  to  put  a  stop  to  all  their  comfort.  She  got  a  sleep 
ing  posset  given  to  the  young  mother,  and  while  she  was 
thinking  and  thinking  how  she  could  best  make  away 
with  the  child,  she  saw  a  wicked-looking  wolf  in  the 
garden,  looking  up  at  her,  and  licking  his  chops.  She 
lost  no  time,  but  snatched  the  child  from  the  arms  of  the 
sleeping  woman,  and  pitched  it  out.  The  beast  caught  it 
in  his  mouth,  and  was  over  the  garden  fence  in  a  minute. 
The  wicked  woman  then  pricked  her  own  lingers,  and 


380  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

dabbled  the  blood  round  the  mouth  of  the  sleeping 
mother. 

Well,  the  young  king  was  just  then  coming  into  the 
big  bawn  from  hunting,  and  as  soon  as  he  entered  the 
house,  she  beckoned  to  him,  shed  a  few  crocodile  tears, 
began  to  cry  and  wring  her  hands,  and  hurried  him  along 
the  passage  to  the  bedchamber. 

Oh,  wasn't  the  poor  king  frightened  Avhen  he  saw  the 
queen's  mouth  bloody,  and  missed  his  child  ?  It  would 
take  two  hours  to  tell  you  the  devilment  of  the  old  queen, 
the  confusion  and  fright,  and  grief  of  the  young  king  and 
queen,  the  bad  opinion  he  began  to  feel  of  his  wife,  and 
the  struggle  she  had  to  keep  down  her  bitter  sorrow,  and 
not  give  way  to  it  by  speaking  or  lamenting.  The  young 
king  would  not  allow  any  one  to  be  called,  and  ordered 
his  stepmother  to  give  out  that  the  child  fell  from  the 
mother's  arms  at  the  window,  and  that  a  wild  beast  ran 
off  with  it.  The  wicked  woman  pretended  to  do  so,  but 
she  told  underhand  to  everybody  she  spoke  to  what  the 
king  and  herself  saw  in  the  bed-chamber. 

The  young  queen  was  the  most  unhappy  woman  in  the 
three  kingdoms  for  a  long  time,  between  sorrow  for  her 
child,  and  her  husband's  bad  opinion ;  still  she  neither 
spoke  nor  cried,  and  she  gathered  bog-down  and  went  on 
with  the  shirts.  Often  the  twelve  wild  geese  would  be 
seen  lighting  on  the  trees  in  the  park  or  on  the  smooth 
sod,  and  looking  in  at  her  windows.  So  she  worked  on 
to  get  the  shirts  finished,  but  another  year  was  at  an  end, 
and  she  had  the  twelfth  shirt  finished  except  one  arm, 
when  she  was  obliged  to  take  to  her  bed,  and  a  beautiful 
girl  was  born. 

Now  the  king  was  on  his  guard,  and  he  would  not  let 
the  mother  and  child  be  left  alone  for  a  minute ;  but  the 
wicked  woman  bribed  some  of  the  attendants,  set  others 
asleep,  gave  the  sleepy  posset  to  the  queen,  and  had  a 
person  watching  to  snatch  the  child  away,  and  kill  it. 
I  Jut  what  should  she  see  but  the  same  wolf  in  the  garden 
looking  up,  and  licking  his  chops  again  !  Out  went  the 


THE  TWELVE  WILD  GEESE.  3S1 

child,  and  away  with  it  flew  the  wolf,  and  she  smeared 
the  sleeping  mother's  mouth  and  face  with  blood,  and 
then  roared,  and  bawled,  and  cried  out  to  the  king  and  to 
everybody  she  met,  and  the  room  was  filled,  and  everyone 
was  sure  the  young  queen  had  just  devoured  her  own 
babe. 

The  poor  mother  thought  now  her  life  would  leave  her. 
She  was  in  such  a  state  she  could  neither  think  nor  pray, 
but  she  sat  like  a  stone,  and  worked  away  at  the  arm  of 
the  twelfth  shirt. 

The  king  was  for  taking  her  to  the  house  in  the  wood 
where  he  found  her,  but  the  stepmother,  and  the  lords  of 
the  court,  and  the  judges  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  she, 
was  condemned  to  be  burned  in  the  big  bawn  at  three 
o'clock  the  same  day.  When  the  hour  drew  near,  the  king 
went  to  the  farthest  part  of  his  palace,  and  there  was  no 
more  unhappy  man  in  his  kingdom  at  that  hour. 

When  the  executioners  came  and  led  her  oft',  she  took 
the  pile  of  shirts  in  her  arms.  There  was  still  a  few 
stitches  wanted,  and  while  they  were  tying  her  to  the  stakes 
she  still  worked  on.  At  the  last  stitch  she  seemed  over 
come  and  dropped  a  tear  on  her  work,  but  the  moment 
after  she  sprang  up,  and  shouted  out,  "  I  am  innocent ;  call 
my  husband!"  The  executioners  stayed  their  hands,  ex 
cept  one  wicked-disposed  creature,  who  set  fire  to  the 
faggot  next  him,  and  while  all  were  struck  in  amaze, 
there  was  a  rushing  of  wings,  and  in  a  moment  the  twelve 
wild  geese  were  standing  around  the  pile.  Before  you 
could  count  twelve,  she  flung  a  shirt  over  each  bird,  and 
there  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  were  twelve  of  the  finest 
young  men  that  could  be  collected  out  of  a  thousand. 
While  some  were  untying  their  sister,  the  eldest,  taking 
a  strong  stake  in  his  hand,  struck  the  busy  executioner 
such  a  blow  that  he  never  needed  another. 

While  they  were  comforting  the  young  queen,  and  the 
king  was  hurrying  to  the  spot,  a  fine-looking  woman  ap 
peared  among  them  holding  the  babe  on  one  arm  and  the 
little  prince  by  the  hand.  There  was  nothing  but  crying 


382  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

for  joy,  and  laughing  for  joy,  and  hugging  and  kissing, 
and  when  any  one  had  time  to  thank  the  good  fairy,  who 
in  the  shape  of  a  wolf,  carried  the  child  away,  she  was 
not  to  be  found.  Never  was  such  happiness  enjoyed  in 
any  palace  that  ever  was  built,  and  if  the  wicked  queen 
and  her  helpers  were  not  torn  by  wild  horses,  they  richly 
deserved  it. 


THE  LAZY  BEAUTY  AND  HER  AUNTS. 

PATRICK  KENNEDY'S  "  FIREIDE  STORIES  OP  IRELAND." 

THERE  was  once  a  poor  widow  woman,  who  had  a 
daughter  that  was  as  handsome  as  the  day,  and  as  lazy  as 
a  pig,  saving  your  presence.  The  poor  mother  was  the 
most  industrious  person  in  the  townland,  and  was  a  par 
ticularly  good  hand  at  the  spinning-wheel.  It  was  the 
wish  of  her  heart  that  her  daughter  should  be  as  handy 
as  herself  ;  but  she'd  get  up  late,  eat  her  breakfast  before 
she'd  finish  her  prayers,  and  then  go  about  dawdling,  and 
anything  she  handled  seemed  to  be  burning  her  lingers. 
She  drawled  her  words  as  if  it  was  a  great  trouble  to  her 
to  speak,  or  as  if  her  tongue  was  as  lazy  as  her  body. 
Many  a  heart-scald  her  poor  mother  got  with  her,  and 
still  she  was  only  improving  like  dead  fowl  in  August. 

Well,  one  morning  that  things  were  as  bad  as  they 
could  be,  and  the  poor  woman  was  giving  tongue  at  the  rate 
of  a  mill-clapper,  who  should  be  riding  by  but  the  king's 
son.  "  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  good  woman  ! "  said  he,  "  you 
must  have  a  very  bad  child  to  make  you  scold  so  terribly. 
Sure  it  can't  be  this  handsome  girl  that  vexed  you !  " 
"  Oh,  please  your  Majesty,  not  at  all,"  says  the  old  dis 
sembler.  "  I  was  only  checking  her  for  working  herself 
too  much.  Would  your  majesty  believe  it?  She  spins 
three  pounds  of  flax  in  a  day,  weaves  it  into  linen  the 


THE  LAZY  BEAUTY  AND  HER  AUNTS. 

next,  jiiid  makes  it  all  into  shirts  the  day  ofter.  "  My 
gracious,"  says  the  prince,  "she's  the  very  lady  that  will 
just  rill  my  mother's  eye,  and  herself  s  the  greatest  spinner 
in  the  kingdom.  Will  you  put  on  your  daughter's  bonnet 
and  cloak,  if  you  please,  ma'am,  and  set  her  behind  me? 
Why,  my  mother  will  he  so  delighted  with  her,  that  per 
haps  she'll  make  her  her  daughter-in-law  in  a  week,  that 
is,  if  the  young  woman  herself  is  agreeable." 

Well,  between  the  confusion,  and  the  joy,  and  the  fear 
of  being  found  out,  the  women  didn't  know  what  to  do  ; 
and  before  they  could  make  np  their  minds,  young  Anty 
(Anastasia)  was  set  behind  the  prince,  and  away  he  and 
his  attendants  went,  and  a  good  heavy  purse  was  left  be 
hind  with  the  mother.  She  jmlWIuwl  a  long  time  after 
all  was  gone,  in  dread  of  something  bad  happening  to  the 
poor  girl. 

The  prince  couldn't  judge  of  the  girl's  breeding  or  wit 
from  the  few  answers  he  pulled  out  of  her.  The  queen 
was  struck  in  a  heap  when  she  saw  a  young  country  girl 
sitting  behind  her  son,  but  when  she  saw  her  handsome, 
face,  and  heard  all  she  could  do,  she  didn't  think  she  could 
make  too  much  of  her.  The  prince  took  an  opportunity 
of  whispering  her  that  if  she  didn't  object  to  be  his  wife 
she  must  strive  to  please  his  mother.  Well,  the  evening 
went  by,  and  the  prince  and  Anty  we're1  getting  fonder 
and  fonder  of  one  another,  but  the  thought  of  the  spin 
ning  used  to  send  the  cold  to  her  heart  every  moment. 
When  bed-time  came,  the  old  queen  went  along  with  her 
to  a  beautiful  bedroom,  and  when  she  was  bidding  hei; 
good-night,  she  pointed  to  a  heap  of  fine  flax,  and  said, 
"  You  may  begin  as  soon  as  you  like  to-morrow  morning, 
and  I'll  expect  to  see  these  three  pounds  in  nice  thread 
the  morning  after."  Little  did  the  poor  girl  sleep  that 
night.  She  kept  crying  and  lamenting  that  she  didn't 
mind  her  mother's  advice  better.  When  she  was  left 
alone  next  morning,  she  began  with  a  heavy  heart ;  and 
though  she  had  a  nice  mahogany  wheel  and  the  finest  flax 
you  ever  saw,  the  thread  was  breaking  every  moment. 


;]S|  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

One  while  it  was  as  fine  as  a  cobweb,  and  the  next  as 
coarse  as  a  little  boy's  whipcord.  At  last  she  pnshed 
her  chair  back,  let  her  hands  fall  in  her  lap,  and  burst 
out  a-crying. 

A  small,  old  woman  with  surprising  big  feet  appeared 
before  her  at  the  same  moment,  and  said,  "  What  ails 
you,  you  handsome  colleen  ?  "  "  An'  haven't  I  all  that 
flax  to  spin  before  to-morrow  morning,  and  I'll  never  be 
able  to  have  even  five  yards  of  fine  thread  of  it  put  to 
gether."  "  An'  would  you  think  bad  to  ask  poor  Colliach 
Cushmdr  (Old  woman  Big-foot)  to  your  wedding  with 
the  young  prince  ?  If  you  promise  me  that,  all  your 
three  pounds  will  be  made  into  the  finest  of  thread  while 
you're  taking  your  sleep  to-night."  "  Indeed,  you  must 
be  there  and  welcome,  and  I'll  honor  you  all  the  days  of 
your  life."  "  Very  well ;  stay  in  your  room  till  tea- time, 
and  tell  the  queen  she  may  come  in  for  her  thread  as  early 
as  she  likes  to-morrow  morning."  It  was  all  as  she  said ; 
and  the  thread  was  finer  and  evener  than  the  gut  you  see 
with  fly-fishers.  "My  brave  girl  you  were!"  says  the 
queen.  "  I'll  get  my  own  mahogany  loom  brought  into 
you,  but  you  needn't  do  anything  more  to-day.  Work 
and  rest,  work  and  rest,  is  my  motto.  To-morrow  you'll 
weave  all  this  thread,  and  who  knows  what  may 
happen  ?  " 

The  poor  girl  was  more  frightened  this  time  than  the 
last,  and  she  was  so  afraid  to  lose  the  prince.  She  didn't 
even  know  how  to  put  the  warp  in  the  gears,  nor  how  to 
use  the  shuttle,  and  she  was  sitting  in  the  greatest  grief, 
when  a  little  woman,  who  was  mighty  well-shouldered 
about  the  hips,  all  at  once  appeared  to  her,  told  her  her 
name  was  CoUiach  Cromanmdr,  and  made  the  same  bar 
gain  with  her  as  Colliach  Cushmor.  Great  was  the 
queen's  pleasure  when  she  found  early  in  the  morning  a 
web  as  fine  and  white  as  the  finest  paper  you  ever  saw. 

"  The  darling  you  were  !  "  says  she.  "  Take  your  ease 
with  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  to-day,  and  if  you  have  all 
this  made  into  nice  shirts  to-morrow  you  may  present 


THE  LAZY  BEAUTY  AND  HER  AUNTS. 

of  them  to  my  son,  and  be  married  to  him  out  of 
hand!" 

Oil,  wouldn't  yon  pity  poor  Anty  the  next  day,  she  was 
now  so  near  the  prince,  and,  maybe,  would  be  soon  so  far 
from  him.  lint  she  waited  as  patiently  as  she  could  with 
scissors,  needle,  and  thread  in  hand,  till  a  minute  after  noon. 
Then  she  was  rejoiced  to  see  the  third  old  woman  appear. 
She  had  a  big  red  nose,  and  informed  Anty  that  people 
called  her  ^/iron  JI<>r  Jimi  on  that  account.  She  was  up 
to  her  as  good  as  the,  others,  for  a  do/en  tine  shirts  were 
lying  on  the  table  when  the  <|ueen  paid  her  an  early  visit. 

Now  there  was  nothing  talked  of  but  the  wedding,  and 
I  needn't  tell  you  it  was  grand.  The  poor  mother  was 
there  along  with  the  rest,  and  sit  the  dinner  the  old  queen 
could  talk  of  nothing  but  the  lovely  shirts,  and  how  happy 
herself  and  the  bride  would  be  after  the  honeymoon, 
spinning,  and  weaving,  and  sewing  shirts  and  shifts  with 
out  end.  The  bridegroom  didn't  like  the  discourse,  and 
the  bride  liked  it  less,  and  he  was  going  to  say  something, 
when  the  footman  came  up  to  the  head  of  the  table  and 
said  to  the  bride,  "  Your  ladyship's  aunt,  (1olliach  Cuslimor, 
bade  me  ask  might  she  come  in."  The  bride  blushed  and 
wished  she  was  seven  miles  under  the  floor,  but  well  be 
came  the  prince.  "  Tell  Mrs.  Cushmor,"  said  he,  u  that 
any  relation  of  my  bride's  will  be  always  welcome  wher 
ever  she  and  1  are.1'  In  came  the  woman  with  the  big 
foot,  and  got  a  seat  near  the  prince.  The  old  queen 
didn't  like  it  much,  and  after  a  few  words  she  asked  rather 
spitefully,  "Dear  ma'am,  what's  the  reason  your  foot  is  so 
big?"  " Mitsui;  faith,  your  majesty,  I  was  standing  al 
most  all  my  life  at  the  spinning-wheel,  and  that's  the 
reason."  "  I  declare  to  you,  my  darling,"  said  the  prince, 
"I'll  never  allow  you  to  spend  one  hour  at  the  same  spin 
ning- wheel."  The  same  footman  said  again,  "  Your  lady 
ship's  aunt,  Colliach  Cromanmor,  wishes  to  come  in,  if  the 
genteels  and  yourself  have  no  objection."  Very  $h<ir<Hme 
(displeased)  was  Princess  Anty,  but  the  prince  sent  her 
welcome,  and  she  took,  her  seat,  and  drank  healths  apiece 


3S(>  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

to  the  company.  "May  I  ask,  ma'am:'"  says  the  old 
quern,  "why  you're  so  wide  half-way  between  the  head 
and  the  feet?  "  "  That,  your  majesty,  is  owing  to  sitting 
all  my  life  at  the  loom."  "  By  my  sceptre,"  says  the 
prince,  "my  wife  shall  never  sit  there  an  hour."  The 
footman  again  came  up.  "  Your  ladyship's  aunt,  Colliach 
Shron  Mor  Rua,  is  asking  leave  to  come  into  the  banquet." 
31  ore  blushing  on  the  bride's  face,  but  the  bridegroom 
spoke  out  cordially,  "  Tell  Mrs.  Shron  Mor  Rua  she's  do 
ing  us  an  honor."  In  came  the  old  woman,  and  great  re 
spect  she  got  near  the  top  of  the  table,  but  the  people 
down  low  put  up  their  tumblers  and  glasses  to  their  noses 
to  hide  the  grins.  "Ma'am,"  says  the  old  queen,  "will 
you  tell  us,  if  you  please,  why  your  nose  is  so  big  and 
red  ?"  "Throth,  your  majesty,  my  head  was  bent  down 
over  the  stitching  all  my  life,  and  all  the  blood  in  my 
body  ran  into  my  nose."  "  My  darling,"  said  the  prince 
to  Anty,  "if  ever  I  see  a  needle  in  your  hand,  I'll  run  a 
hundred  miles  from  you"." 

"  And  in  troth,  girls  and  boys,  though  it's  a  diverting 
story,  I  don't  think  the  moral  is  good  ;  and  if  any  of  you 
tliu<'k«'nx  go  about  imitating  Anty  in  her  laziness,  you'll 
find  it  won't  thrive  with  you  as  it  did  with  her.  She  was 
beautiful  beyond  compare,  which  none  of  you  are,  and  she 
had  three  powerful  fairies  to  help  her  besides.  There's  no 
fairies  now,  and  no  prince  or  lord  to  ride  by,  and  catch 
you  idling  or  working ;  and  maybe,  after  all,  the  prince 
and  herself  were  not  so  very  happy  when  the  cares  of  the 
world  or  old  age  came  on  them." 

Thus  was  the  tale  ended  by  poor  old  SJiebale  (Sybilla), 
Father  Murphy's  housekeeper,  in  Coolbawn,  Barony  of 
Bantry,  about  half  a  century  since. 


THE  HAUGHTY  PRINCESS.  387 

THE  HAUGHTY  PRINCESS.1 

]JY  PATRICK  KENXEDY 

Tn  K UK  was  once  a  very  worthy  king,  whose  daughter  was 
the  greatest  beauty  that  could  he  seen  far  or  near,  but  she 
was  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  no  king  or  prince  would  she 
agree  to  marry.  1  Icr  father  was  tired  out  at  last,  and  invited 
every  king,  and  prince,  and  duke,  and  earl  that  he  knew 
or  didn't  know  to  come  to  his  court  to  give  her  one  trial 
more.  They  all  came,  and  next  day  after  breakfast  they 
stood  in  a  row  in  the  lawn,  and  the  princess  walked  along 
in  the  front  of  them  to  make  her  choice.  One  was  fat, 
and  says  she,  "  I  won't  have  you,  Beer-barrel !  "  One  was 
tall  and  thin,  and  to  him  she  said,  "  I  won't  have  you, 
Ramrod  !  "  To  a  white-faced  man  she  said,  "  I  won't 
have1  you,  Pale  Death;  "  and  to  a  red-cheeked  man  she 
said,  "•  I  won't  have  you,  Cockscomb!"  She  stopped  a 
little  before  the  last  of  all,  for  he  was  a  fine  man  in  face 
and  form.  She  wanted  to  find  some  defect  in  him,  but  he 
had  nothing  remarkable  but  a  ring  of  brown  curling  hair 
under  his  chin.  She  admired  him  a  little,  and  then 
carried  it  off  with,  u  I  won't  have  you,  Whiskers!" 

So  all  went  away,  and  the  king  was  so  vexed,  he  said  to 
her,  •"•  Now  to  punish  your  itnimdvuw,  I'll  give  you  to  the 
first  beggarman  or  singing  sthronshuck  that  calls  ;"  and, 
as  sure  as  the  hearth-money,  a  fellow  all  over  rags,  and 
hair  that  came  to  his  shoulders,  and  a  bushy  red  beard 
ail  over  his  face,  came  next  morning,  and  began  to  sing 
before  the  parlor  Avindovr. 

When  the  song  was  over,  the  hall-door  was  opened,  the 
singer  asked  in,  the  priest  brought,  and  the  princess 
married  to  Beardy.  She  roared  and  she  bawled,  but  her 
father  didn't  mind  her.  *»  There,"  says  he  to  the  bride- 

*  Fireside  Stories  of  Ireland, 


3S8  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

groom,  "  is  five  guineas  for  you.  Take  your  wife  out  of 
my  sight,  and  never  let  me  lay  eyes  on  you  or  her  again." 

Off  he  led  her,  and  dismal  enough  she  was.  The  only 
thing  that  gave  her  relief  was  the  tones  of  her  husband's 
voice  and  his  genteel  manners.  "  Whose  wood  is  this  ?  " 
said  she,  as  they  were  going  through  one.  "  It  belongs 
to  the  king  you  called  Whiskers  yesterday."  lie  gave 
her  the  same  answer  about  meadows  and  corn-fields,  and 
at  last  a  fine  city.  "  Ah,  what  a  fool  I  was  !  "  said  she  to 
herself.  "  lie  was  a  fine  man,  and  I  might  have  him  for 
a  husband."  At  last  they  were  coming  up  to  a  poor  cabin. 
"  Why  are  you  bringing  me  here  ?  "  says  the  poor  lady. 
"  This  was  my  house,"  said  he,  "  and  now  it's  yours." 
She  began  to  cry,  but  she  Avas  tired  and  hungry,  and  she 
went  in  with  him. 

Ovoch !  there  was  neither  a  table  laid  out,  nor  a  fire 
burning,  and  she  was  obliged  to  help  her  husband  to 
light  it,  and  boil  their  dinner,  and  cleanup  the  place  after  ; 
and  next  day  he  made  her  put  on  a  stuff  gown  and  a 
cotton  handkerchief.  When  she  had  her  house  readied 
up,  and  no  business  to  keep  her  employed,  he  brought 
home  sallies  [willows],  peeled  them,  and  showed  her  how 
to  make  baskets.  But  the  hard  twigs  bruised  her  delicate 
fingers,  and  she  began  to  cry.  Well,  then  he  asked  her 
to  mend  their  clothes,  but  the  needle  drew  blood  from  her 
fingers,  and  she  cried  again.  He  couldn't  bear  to  see  her 
tears,  so  he  bought  a  creel  of  earthen  ware,  and  sent  her 
to  the  market  to  sell  them.  This  was  the  hardest  trial  of 
all,  but  she  looked  so  handsome  and  sorrowful,  and  such 
a  nice  air  about  her,  that  all  her  pans,  and  jugs,  and  plates, 
and  dishes  were  gone  before  noon,  and  the  only  mark  of 
her  old  pride  she  showed  was  a  slap  she  gave  a  buckeen 
across  the  face  when  he  fi.red\\ev  to  go  in  an'  take  share 
of  a  quart. 

Well,  her  husband  was  so  glad,  he  sent  her  with 
another  creel  the  next  day;  but  faith  !  her  luck  was  nftor 
deserting  her.  A  drunken  huntsman  came  up  riding, 
and  his  beast  got  in  among  her  ware,  and  made  brishe  of 


THE  HAUGHTY  PRINCESS.  3S9 

every  mother's  son  of  'em.  She  went  home  cry  in',  and 
her  husband  wasn't  at  all  pleased.  "  I  see,"  said  he, 
"  you're  not  fit  for  business.  Come  along,  Til  get  you  a 
kitchen-maid's  place  in  the  palace.  I  know  the  cook." 

So  the  poor  thing  was  obliged  to  stifle  her  pride  once 
more.  She  was  kept  very  busy,  and  the  footman  and  the 
butler  would  be  very  impudent  about  looking  for  a  kiss, 
but  she  let  a  screech  out  of  her  the  first  attempt  was 
made,  and  the  cook  gave  the  fellow  such  a  lambasting 
with  the  besom  that  he  made  no  second  offer.  She  went 
home  to  her  husband  every  night,  and  she  carried  broken 
victuals  wrapped  in  paper  in  her  side  pockets. 

A  week  after  she  got  service  there  was  great  bustle  in 
the  kitchen.  The  king  was  going  to  be  married,  but  no 
one  knew  who  the  bride  was  to  be.  Well,  in  the  evening 
the  cook  filled  the  princess's  pockets  with  cold  meat  and 
puddings,  and,  says  she,  "  Hefore  you  go,  let  us  have  a 
look  at  the  great  doings  in  the  big  parlor."  So  they  came 
near  the  door  to  get  a  peep,  and  who  should  come  out  but 
the  king  himself,  as  handsome  as  you  please,  and  no 
other  but  King  Whiskers  himself.  "Your  handsome 
helper  must  pay  for  her  peeping,''  said  he  to  the  cook, 
"and  dance  a  jig  with  me,"  Whether  she  would  or  no, 
he  held  her  hand  and  brought  her  into  the  parlor.  The 
tiddlers  struck  up,  and  away  went  him  with  her.  Hut 
they  hadn't  danced  two  steps  when  the  meat  and  the, 
puddens  fiew  out  of  her  pockets.  Every  one  roared  out, 
and  she  flew  to  the  door,,  crying  piteously.  Hut  she  was 
soon  caught  by  the  king,  and  taken  into  the  back  parlor. 
"Don't  you  know  me,  my  darling?"  said  be.  "  I'm  both 
King  Whiskers,  your  husband  the  ballad-singer,  and  the 
drunken  huntsman.  Y'our  father  knew  me  well  enough 
when  he  gave  you  to  me,  and  all  was  to  drive  your  pride 
out  of  you."  Well,  she  didn't  know  how  she  was  with 
fright,  and  shame,  and  joy.  Love  was  uppermost  miy- 
how,  for  she  laid  her  head  on  her  husband's  breast  and 
cried  like  a  child.  The  maids-of-honor  soon  had  her 
away  and  dressed  her  as  fine  as  hands  and  pins  could  do 


390  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

it ;  and  there  were  her  mother  and  father,  too  ;  and  while 
the  company  were  wondering  what  end  of  the  handsome 
girl  and  the  king,  he  and  his  queen,  who  they  didn't  know 
in  her  fine  clothes,  and  the  other  king  and  queen,  came 
in,  and  such  rejoicings  and  fine  doings  as  there  was, 
one  of  us  will  never  see,  any  way. 


THE  ENCHANTMENT  OF  GEAROIDH  IARLA. 

BY    PATRICK    KENXEDY.* 

IN  old  times  in  Ireland  there  was  a  great  man  of  the 
Fitzgeralds.  The  name  on  him  was  Gerald,  but  the  Irish, 
that  always  had  a  great  liking  for  the  family,  called  him 
Gearoidh  larla  (Earl  Gerald).  He  had  a  great  castle  or 
rath  at  Muttymast  (Mullaghmast) ;  and  whenever  the 
English  Government  were  striving  to  put  some  wrong  on 
the  country,  he  was  always  the  man  that  stood  up  for  it. 
Along  Avith  being  a  great  leader  in  a  fight,  and  very  skil 
ful  at  all  weapons,  he  was  deep  in  the  black  art,  and  could 
change  himself  into  whatever  shape  he  pleased.  His 
lady  knew  that  he  had  this  power,  and  often  asked  him 
to  let  her  into  some  of  his  secrets,  but  he  never  would 
gratify  her. 

She  wanted  particularly  to  see  him  in  some  strange 
shape,  but  he  put  her  oft7  and  off  on  one  pretense  or  other. 
But  she  wouldn't  be  a  woman  if  she  hadn't  perseverance ; 
and  so  at  last  he  let  her  know  that  if  she  took  the  least 
fright  while  he'd  be  out  of  his  natural  form,  he  would 
never  recover  it  till  many  generations  of  men  would  be 
under  the  mould.  "  Oh !  she  wouldn't  be  a  fit  wife  for 
Gearoidh  larla  if  she  could  be  easily  frightened.  Let  him 
but  gratify  her  in  this  whim,  and  he'd  see  what  a  hero  she 
was  !  " — So  one  beautiful  summer  evening,  as  they  were 
sitting  in  their  grand  drawing-room,  he  turned  his  face 

*  Legendary  Fiction  of  the  Irish  Celts, 


THE  ENCHANTMENT  OF  GEARO1DH  1ARLA.       ;VJl 

away  from  her  and  muttered  some  words,  and  while 
you'd  wink  he  was  clever  and  clean  out  of  sight,  and  a 
lovely  goldfinch  was  flying  about  the  room. 

The  lady,  as  courageous  as  she  thought  herself,  was  a 
little  startled,  but  she  held  her  own  pretty  well,  especially 
when  he  came  and  perched  on  her  shoulder,  and  shook 
his  wings,  and  put  his  little  beak  to  her  lips,  and  whistled 
the  delightfulest  tune  you  ever  heard.  Well,  he  flew  in 
circles  round  the  room,  and  played  At'ifo  ami  yo  seek  with 
his  lady,  and  flew  out  into  the  garden,  and  flew  back 
again,  and  lay  down  in  her  lap  as  if  he  was  asleep,  and 
jumped  up  again. 

Well,  when  the  thing  had  lasted  long  enough  to  satisfy 
both,  he  took  one  flight  more  into  the  open  air;  but  by 
my  word  he  was  soon  on  his  return.  He  flew  right  into 
his  lady's  bosom,  and  the  next  moment  a  fierce  hawk  was 
after  him.  The  wife  gave  one  loud  scream,  though  there 
was  no  need,  for  the  wild  bird  came  in  like  an  arrow,  and 
struck  against  a  table  with  such  force  that  the  life  was 
dashed  out  of  him.  She  turned  her  eyes  from  his  quiver 
ing  body  to  where  she  saw  the  goldfinch  an  instant  before, 
but  neither  goldfinch  nor  Earl  Gerald  did  she  ever  lay 
eyes  on  again. 

Once  every  seven  years  the  Earl  rides  round  the  Cur- 
ragh  of  Kildare  on  a  steed,  whose  silver  shoes  were  half 
an  inch  thick  the  time  he  disappeared ;  and  when  these 
shoes  are  worn  as  thin  as  a  cat's  ear,  he  will  be  restored 
to  the  society  of  living  men,  fight  a  great  battle  with  the 
English,  and  reign  king  of  Ireland  for  two-score  years.* 

Himself  and  his  warriors  are  now  sleeping  in  a  long 
cavern  under  the  Rath  of  Mullaghmast.  There  is  a  table 
running  along  through  the  middle  of  the  cave.  The  Earl 
is  sitting  at  the  head,  and  his  troopers  down  along  in 
complete  armor  both  sides  of  the  table,  and  their  heads 
resting  on  it.  Their  horses,  saddled,  and  bridled,  are 
standing  behind  their  masters  in  their  stalls  at  each  side ; 

*  The  last  time  Oearoidh  larla  appeared  the  horse-shoes  were 
as  thin  as  a  sixpence. 


392  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

and  when  the  day  comes,  the  miller's  son  that's  to  be  born 
with  six  fingers  on  each  hand,  will  blow  his  trumpet,  and 
the  horses  will  stamp  and  whinny,  and  the  knights  awake 
and  mount  their  steeds,  and  go  forth  to  battle. 

Some  night  that  happens  once  in  every  seven  years, 
while  the  Earl  is  riding  round  the  Curragh,  the  entrance 
may  be  seen  by  any  one  chancing  to  pass  by.  About  a 
hundred  years  ago,  a  horse-dealer  that  was  late  abroad 
and  a  little  drunk,  saw  the  lighted  cavern,  and  went  in. 
The  lights,  and  the  stillness,  and  the  sight  of  the  men  in 
armor,  cowed  him  a  good  deal,  and  he  became  sober. 
His  hands  began  to  tremble,  and  he  let  a  bridle  fall  on  the 
pavement.  The  sound  of  the  bit  echoed  through  the 
long  cave,  and  one  of  the  warriors  that  was  next  him 
lifted  his  head  a  little,  and  said,  in  a  deep  hoarse  voice, 
"Is  it  time  yet?  "  lie  had  the  wit  to  say,  "  Not  yet  but 
soon  will,"  and  the  heavy  helmet  sunk  down  on  the  table. 
The  horse-dealer  made  the  best  of  his  way  out,  and 
I  never  heard  of  any  other  one  having  got  the  same 
opportunity. 


MUNACHAR  AND  MANACHAR. 

TRANSLATED  LITERALLY  FROM  THE  IRISH  BY 
DOUGLAS  HYDE. 

THERE  once  lived  a  Munachar  and  a  Manachar,  a  long 
time  ago,  and  it  is  a  long  time  since  i  t  was,  and  if  they 
were  alive  then  they  would  not  be  alive  now.  They  went 
out  together  to  pick  raspberries,  and  as  many  as  Munachar 
used  to  pick  Manachar  used  to  eat.  Munachar  said  he 
must  go  look  for  a  rgd  to  make  a  gad  (a  withy  band)  to 
hang  Manachar,  who  ate  his  raspberries  every  one ;  and 
he  came  to  the  rod.  "  God  save  you,"  said  the  rod.  "  (rod 
and  Mary  save  you."  "  How  far  are  you  going  ?  "  "  Going 


MUXACIIAU  AND  MAXACHAll. 

looking  for  ;i  roil,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to  hang  Man 
achar,  who  ate  my  raspberries  every  one." 

"You  will  not  get  -me,"1  said  the  rod,  "until  you  get 
an  axe  to  cut  inc."  He  came  to  the  axe.  "God  save 
you,"  said  the  axe.  "God  and  Mary  save  yon."  "How 
far  are  yon  going  V"  "  Going  looking  for  an  axe,  an  axe 
to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to  hang  Manachar, 
who  ate  my  raspberries  every  one." 

"You  will  not  get  me,"  said  the  axe,  "until  you  get  a 
flag  to  edge  me."  lie  came  to  the  flag.  "  God  save  you," 
says  the  flag."  "God  and  Mary  save  yon."  "How  far 
are  you  going  ?"  "Going  looking  for  an  axe,  axe  to  cut 
a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to  hang  Manachar,  who 
ate  my  raspberries  every  one." 

"You  will  not  get  me,"  says  the  flag,  "till  you  get 
water  to  wet  me."  He  came  to  the  water.  u  God  save 
you,"  says  thi1  water.  "God  and  Mary  save  you."  "How 
far  are  you  going;'"  "Going  looking  for  water,  water  to 
wet  flag  to  edge  axe,  axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad, 
a  gad  to  hang  Manachar,  who  ate  my  raspberries  every 
one." 

"You  will  not  get  me,"  said  the  water,  u  until  you  get 
a  deer  who  will  swim  me."  He  came  to  the  deer.  "God 
save  you,"  says  the  deer.  "God  and  Mary  save  you." 
"How  far  are  you  going?'1  "Going  looking  for  a  deer, 
deer  to  swim  water,  water  to  wet  flag,  flag  to  edge  axe, 
axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to  hang 
Manachar,  who  ate  my  raspberries  every  one." 

"  You  will  not  get  me,"  said  the  deer,  "  until  you  get  a 
hound  who  will  hunt  me."  He  came  to  the  hound. 
"  God  save  you,"  says  the  hound.  "  God  and  Mary  save 
you.  "  How  far  are  you  going?"  "  Going  looking  fora 
hound,  hound  to  hunt  deer,  deer  to  swim  water,  water  to 
wet  flag,  flag  to  edge  axe,  axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make 
a  gad,  a  gad  to  hang  Manachar,  wrho  ate  my  raspberries 
every  one. 

"  Y"ou  will  not  get  me,"  said  the  hound,  "  until  you  get 
a  bit  of  butter  to  put  in  my  claw."  He  came  to  the  butter. 


394  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"God  save  you,"  says  the  1  miter.  "Mod  and  Mary  save 
you."  "  How  far  are  you  going  ?  "  "  Going  looking  for 
butter,  butter  to  go  in  claw  of  hound,  hound  to  hunt  deer, 
deer  to  swim  water,  water  to  wet  flag,  flag  to  edge  axe, 
axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to  hang  Mana- 
char,  who  ate  my  raspberries  every  one." 

"  You  will  not  get  me,"  said  the  butter,  "  until  you  get 
a  cat  who  will  scrape  me."  He  came  to  the  cat.  "  God 
save  you,"  said  the  cat.  "God  and  Mary  save  you." 
"  How  far  are  you  going  ?  "  "  Going  looking  for  a  cat, 
cat  to  scrape  butter,  butter  to  go  in  claw  of  hound,  hound 
to  hunt  deer,  deer  to  swim  water,  water  to  Avet  flag,  flag 
to  edge  axe,  axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  gad  to 
hang  Manachar,  Avho  ate  my  raspberries  every  one." 

"  You  Avill  not  get  me,"  said  the  cat,  "  until  you  will  get 
milk  Avhich  you  will  give  me."  He  came  to  the  cow. 
"  God  save  you,"  said  the  COAV.  "  God  and  Mary  save  you." 
"How  far  are  you  going?"  "Going  looking  for  a  COAV, 
COAV  to  give  me  milk,  milk  I  will  give  to  the  cat,  cat  to 
scrape  butter,  butter  to  go  in  claAV  of  hound,  hound  to 
hunt  deer,  deer  to  swim  Avater,  water  to  Avet  flag,  flag  to 
edge  axe,  axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to 
hang  Manachar,  Avho  ate  my  raspberries  eArery  one." 

"You  will  not  get  any  milk  from  me,"  said  the  COAV, 
"  until  you  bring  me  a  Avhisp  of  straAV  from  those  threshers 
yonder."  He  came  to  the  threshers.  "  God  save  you,'' 
said  the  threshers.  "  God  and  Mary  save  ye."  "  How  far 
are  you  going  ?  "  "  Going  looking  for  a  AArhisp  of  straAV 
from  ye  to  give  to  the  COAV,  the  COAV  to  give  me  milk,  milk 
I  Avill  give  to  the  cat,  cat  to  scrape  butter,  butter  to  go  in 
claw  of  hound,  hound  to  hunt  deer,  deer  to  SAvim  Avater, 
water  to  Avet  flag,  flag  to  edge  axe,  axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod 
to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to.  hang  Manachar,  Avho  ate  my  rasp 
berries  every  one." 

"  You  will  not  get  any  Avhisp  of  straAV  from  us,"  said  the 
threshers,  "  until  you  bring  us  the  makings  of  a  cake  from 
the  miller  over  yonder."  He  came  to  the  miller.  "  God  save 
you."  "  God  and  Mary  save  you."  HOAV  far  are  you 


MUNACHAR  AND  MAXACHAR.  395 

going?"  "(ioing  looking  fur  the  makings  of  a  cake,  which 
I  will  give  to  the  threshers,  the  threshers  to  give  me  a  whisp 
of  straw,  the  whisp  of  straw  I  will  give  to  the  cow,  the 
cow  to  give  me  milk,  milk  I  will  give  to  the  cat,  cat  to 
scrape  butter,  butter  to  go  in  elaw  of  hound,  hound  to 
hunt  deer,  deer  to  swim  water,  water  to  wet  Hag,  flag  to 
edge  axe,  axe  to  cut  a  rod,  a  rod  to  make  a  gad,  a  gad  to 
hang  Manachar,  who  ate  my  raspberries  every  one. 

"  You  will  not  get  any  makings  of  a  cake  from  me,"  said 
the  miller,  "  till  you  bring  me  the  full  of  that  sieve  of 
water  from  the  river  over  there.'1 

He  took  the  sieve  in  his  hand  and  went  over  to  the 
river,  but  as  often  as  ever  he  would  stoop  and  till  it  with 
water,  the  moment  he  raised  it  the  water  would  run  out  of 
it  again,  and  sure,  if  he  had  been  there  from  that  day  till 
this,  he  never  could  have  tilled  it.  A  cro\v  went  living 
by  him,  over  his  head.  ul)aub!  daub!"  said  the  crow- 
"  My  soul  to  (iod,  then,"  said  .Mnnachar, k-  but  it's  the  good 
advice  you  have,'' and  he  took  the  red  clay  and  the  daub 
thai  was  by  the  brink,  and  he  rubbed  it  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sieve,  until  all  the  holes  were  tilled,  and  then  the 
sieve  held  the  water,  and  he  brought  the  water  to  the 
miller,  and  the  miller  gave  him  the  makings  of  a  cake, 
and  he  gave  the  makings  of  the  cake  to  the  threshers, 
and  the  threshers  gave  him  a  whisp  of  straw,  and  he  gave 
the  whisp  of  straw  to  the  cow,  and  the  cow  gave  him 
milk,  the  milk  he  gave  to  the  cat,  the  cat  scraped  the 
butter,  the  butter  went  into  the  claw  of  the  hound,  the 
hunted  the  deer,  the  deer  swam  the  water,  the  water  wet 
the  flag,  the  flag  sharpened  the  axe,  the  axe  cut  the  rod, 
and  the  rod  made  a  gad,  and  when  he  had  it  ready — I'll 
go  bail  that  Manachar  was  far  enough  away  from  him. 

There  is  some  tale  like  this  in  almost  every  language,  It  re 
sembles  that  given  in  that  splendid  work  of  industry  and  pa 
triotism,  Campbell's  Tales  of  the,  Wext  Higlilands  under  the  name 
of  Moonachug  and  Meenachug.  "The  English  House  that  Jack 
built, "says  Campbell,  "  has  eleven  steps,  the  Scotch  Old  Woman 
with  the  Silver  Penny  has  twelve,  the  Novsk  Cock  and  Hen 


;V,M;  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

A-mitting  has  twelve,  ten  of  which  ;ire  double.  The  German 
story  in  Grimm  has  five  or  six,  all  single  ideas."  This,  however,  is 
longer  than  any  of  them.  It  sometimes  varies  a  little  in  the  tell 
ing,  and  the  actors'  names  are  sometimes  Suracha  and  Muraeha 
and  the*crow  is  sometimes  a  gull,  who,  instead  of  daub!  daub! 
says  cuir  ere  rua  lesh  ! 


DONALD  AND  HIS  NEIGHBORS. 

llilx  rni<nt.  Tales* 


and  Dudden  and  Donald  O'Xery  were  near 
neighbors  in  the  barony  of  Balinconlig,  and  plowed  with 
three  bullocks;  but  the  two  former,  envying  the  present 
prosperity  of  the  latter,  determined  to  kill  his  bullock,  to 
prevent  his  farm  being  properly  cultivated  and  labored, 
that  going  back  in  the  world  he  might  be  induced  to  sell  his 
lands,  which  they  meant  to  get  possession  of.  Poor  Donald 
finding  his  bnllock  killed,  immediately  skinned  it,  and 
throwing  the  skin  over  his  shoulder,  with  the  fleshy  side, 
out,  set  oft'  to  the  next  town  with  it,  to  dispose  of  it  to  the 
best  of  his  advantage.  Going  along  to  road  a  magpie  flew 
on  the  top  of  the  hide,  and  began  picking  it,  chattering  all 
the  time.  The  bird  been  taught  to  speak,  and  imitate  the 
human  voice,  and  Donald,  thinking  he  understood  some 
words  it  was  saying,  put  round  his  hand  and  caught  hold  of 
it.  Having  got  possession  of  it,  he  put  it  under  his  great 
coat,  and  so  went  on  to  town.  Having  sold  the  hide,  he 
went  into  an  inn  to  take  a  dram,  and  following  the  landlady 
into  the  cellar,  he  gave  the  bird  a  squeeze  which  made  it 
chatter  some  broken  accents  that  surprised  her  very  much. 
"  What  is  that  I  hear  V  "  said  she  to  Donald.  "  I  think  it 
is  talk,  and  yet  I  do  not  understand."  "  Indeed,"  said 
Donald,  "it  is  a  bird  I  have  that  tells  me  everything,  and 
I  always  carry  it  with  me  to  know  when  there  is  any 

*  A   chap-book  mentioned  by  Thackeray  in  his  Irish  Sketch 
Book. 


DONALD  AND  HIS  NEIGHBORS.  397 

danger.  Faith,"  says  he,  "  it  says  you  have  far  better  liquor 
than  you  are  giving  me."  "That  is  strange,"  said  she, 
going  to  another  cask  of  better  quality,  and  asking  him  if 
he  would  sell  the  bird.  "  I  will,"  said  Donald,  "  if  I  get 
enough  for  it."  "  I  will  fill  your  hat  with  silver  if  you  leave 
it  with  me."  Donald  was  glad  to  hear  the  news,  and  taking 
the  silver,  set  off,  rejoicing  at  his  good  luck.  lie  had  not 
been  long  at  home  until  he  met  with  Iludden  and  Dudden. 
fc-  Mr."  said  he,  "  you  thought  you  had  done  me  a  bad  turn, 
but  you  could  not  have  done  me  a  better  ;  for  look  here, 
what  I  have  got  for  the  hide,"  showing  them  a  hatful  of 
silver;  "you  never  saw  such  a  demand  for  hides  in  your 
life  as  there  is  at  present."  I  Hidden  and  Dudden  that 
very  night  killed  their  bullocks,  and  set  out  the  next 
morning  to  sell  their  hides.  On  coming  to  the  place 
they  went  through  all  the  merchants,  but  c<  ,ild  o'ii\ 
get  a  trifle  for  them;  at  last  they  had  to  take  v  hat  they 
could  get,  and  came  home  in  a  great  rage,  and  vowing 
revenge  on  poor  Donald,  lie  had  a  pretty  good  guess 
how  matters  would  turn  out,  and  he  being  under  Uie 
kitchen  window,  he  was  afraid  they  would  rob  him,  or 
perhaps  kill  him  when  asleep,  and  on  that  account  when 
he  was  going  to  bed  he  left  his  old  mother  in  his  place, 
and  lay  down  in  her  bed,  which  was  in  the  other  side  of  the 
house,  and  they  taking  the  old  woman  for  Donald,  choked 
her  in  her  bed,  hut  he  making  some  noise,  they  had  to 
retreat,  and  leave  the  money  behind  them,  which  grieved 
them  very  much.  However,  by  daybreak,  Donald  got 
his  mother  on  his  back,  and  carried  her  to  town.  Stop 
ping  at  a  well,  he  fixed  his  mother  with  her  staff,  as  if 
she  was  stooping  for  a  drink,  and  then  went  into  a  public- 
house  convenient  and  called  for  a  dram.  "  I  wish,"  said 
he  to  a  woman  that  stood  near  him,  "  you  would  tell  my 
mother  to  come  in ;  she  is  at  yon  well  trying  to  get  a 
drink,  and  she  is  hard  of  hearing  ;  if  she  does  not  observe 
you,  give  her  a  little  shake  and  tell  her  that  I  want  her." 
The  woman  called  her  several  times,  but  she  seemed  to 
take  no  notice ;  at  length  she  went  to  her  and  shook  her 


898  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

by  the  arm,  but  when  she1  let  her  go  again,  she  tumbled  on 
her  head  into  the  well,  and,  as  the  woman  thought,  was 
drowned.  She,  in  her  great  surprise  and  fear  at  the  ac 
cident,  told  Donald  what  had  happened.  ';  O  mercy," 
said  he,  "  what  is  this  ?  "  lie  ran  and  pulled  her  out  of 
the  well,  weeping  and  lamenting  all  the  time,  and  acting 
in  such  a  manner  that  you  would  imagine  that  he  had 
lost  his  senses.  The  woman,  on  the  other  hand,  was  far 
worse  than  Donald,  for  his  grief  was  only  feigned,  but  she 
imagined  herself  to  be  the  cause  of  the  old  woman's  death. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  town  hearing  what  had  happened, 
agreed  to  make  Donald  up  a  good  sum  of  money  for  his 
loss,  as  the  accident  happened  in  their  place,  and  Donald 
brought  a  greater  sum  home  with  him  than  he  got  for  the 
magpie.  They  buried  Donald's  mother,  and  as  soon  as 
he  saw  Iludden  he  showed  them  the  last  purse  of  money 
he  had  got.  "  You  thought  to  kill  me  last  night,"  said 
he,  "  but  it  was  good  for  me  it  happened  on  my  mother, 
for  I  got  all  that  purse  for  her  to  make  gunpowder." 

That  very  night  Iludden  and  Duddeu  killed  their 
mothers,  and  the  next  morning  set  off  with  them  to  town. 
On  coming  to  the  town  with  their  burthen  on  their 
backs,  they  went  up  and  down  crying,  "  Who  will  buy 
old  wives  for  gunpowder,"  so  that  every  one  laughed  at 
them,  and  the  boys  at  last  clotted  them  out  of  the  place. 
They  then  saw  the  cheat  and  vowed  revenge  on  Donald, 
buried  the  old  women,  and  set  off  in  pursuit  of  him. 
Coming  to  his  house,  they  found  him  sitting  at  his  break 
fast,  and  seizing  him,  put  him  in  a  sack,  and  went  to 
drown  him  in  a  river  at  some  distance.  As  they  were 
going  along  the  highway  they  raised  a  hare,  which  they 
saw  had  but  three  feet,  and  throwing  off  the  sack,  ran 
after  her,  thinking  by  her  appearance  she  would  be  easily 
taken.  In  their  absence  there  came  a  drover  that  way, 
and  hearing  Donald  singing  in  the  sack,  wondered  greatly 
what  could  be  the  matter.  "  What  is  the  reason,"  said 
he,  "  that  you  are  singing,  and  you  confined  ?  "  "  O,  I  am 
going  to  heaven,"  said  Donald,  "  and  in  a  short  time  I 


DONALD  AND  HIS  NEIGHBORS.  399 

expect  to  be  free  from  trouble."  "O  dear,"  said  the 
drover,  "what  will  I  give  you  if  you  let  me  to  your 
place?"  "Indeed,  I  do  not  know,"  said  he,  "  it  would 
take  a  good  sum."  "  I  have  not  much  money,"  said  the 
drover,  "  but  I  have  twenty  head  of  line  cattle,  which  I 
will  give  you  to  exchange  places  with  me."  "  Well,"  says 
Donald,  "I  do  not  care  if  I  should  loose  the  sack,  and  I 
will  come  out."  In  a  moment  the  drover  liberated  him, 
and  went  into  the  sack  himself,  and  Donald  drove  home 
the  line  heifers,  and  left  them  in  his  pasture. 

I  hidden  and  Dudden  having  caught  the  hare,  returned, 
and  getting  the  sack  on  one  of  their  backs,  carried  Donald, 
as  they  thought,  to  the  river  and  threw  him  in,  where  he 
immediately  sank.  They  then  marched  home,  intending 
to  take  immediate  possession  of  Donald's  projxTty,  but  how 
great  was  their  surprise  when  they  found  him  safe  at  home 
before  them,  with  such  a  fine  herd  of  cattle,  whereas  they 
knew  lie  had  none  before.  "Donald,"  said  they,  "  what  is 
all  this?  We  thought  you  were  drowned,  and  yet  yon 
are  here  before  us."  "Ah!"  said  he,  "if  I  had  but  help 
along  with  me  when  you  threw  me  in,  it  would  have  been 
the  best  job  ever  I  met  with,  for  of  nil  the  sight  of  cattle 
and  gold  that  ever  was  seen  is  there,  and  no  one  to  own 
them,  but  I  was  not  able  to  manage  more  than  what  you 
see,  and  I  could  show  you  the  spot  where  you  might  get 
hundreds."  They  both  swore  they  would  be  his  friend, 
and  Donald  accordingly  led  them  to»a  very  deep  part  of  the 
river,  and  lifted  up  a  stone.  "Now,"  said  he,  "  watch 
this,"  throwing  it  into  the  stream ;  "there  is  the  very 
place,  and  go  in,  one  of  you  first,  and  if  you  want  help, 
you  have  nothing  to  do  but  call."  Iludden,  jumping  in, 
and  sinking  to  the  bottom,  rose  up  again,  and  making  a 
bubbling  noise,  as  those  do  that  are  drowning,  attempted 
to  speak,  but  could  not.  "  What  is  that  he  is  saying 
now?"  says  Dudden.  "Faith,"  says  Donald,  "he  is  call 
ing  for  help;  don't  you  hear  him?  Stand  about,"  said 
he,  running  back,  "  till  I  leap  in.  I  know  how  to  do  it 
better  than  any  of  you,"  Dudden,  to  have  the  advantage 


400  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

of  him,  jumped  in  off  the  bank,  and  was  drowned  along 
with  Hudden,  and  this  was  the  end  of  Hudden  and 
Dudden. 


THE  JACKDAW. 

TOM  MOOR  was  a  linen  draper  in  Sackville  Street.  His 
father,  when  he  died,  left  him  an  affluent  fortune,  and  a 
shop  of  excellent  trade. 

As  he  was  standing  at  his  door  one  day  a  countryman 
came  up  to  him  with  a  nest  of  jackdaws,  and  accosting 
him,  says,  "  Master,  will  you  buy  a  nest  of  daws  ?  "  "  No, 
I  don't  want  any,"  "  Master,"  replied  the  man,  "  I  Avill 
sell  them  all  cheap ;  you  shall  have  the  whole  nest  for 
ninepence."  "  I  don't  want  them,"  answered  Tom  Moor, 
"  so  go  about  your  business." 

As  the  man  was  walking  away  one  of  the  daws  popped 
out  his  head,  and  cried  "Mawk,  mawk."  "Damn  it," 
says  Tom  Moor,  "  that  bird  knows  my  name ;  halloo, 
countryman,  what  will  you  take  for  the  bird  ?  "  "  Why, 
you  shall  have  him  for  threepence."  Tom  Moor  bought 
him,  had  a  cage  made,  and  hung  him  up  in  the  shop. 

The  journeymen  took  much  notice  of  the  bird,  and 
would  frequently  tap  at  the  bottom  of  the  cage,  and  say, 
"  Who  are  you  ?  Who  are  you  ?  Tom  Moor  of  Sackville 
Street." 

In  a  short  time  the  jackdaw  learned  these  words,  and 
if  he  wanted  victuals  or  water,  would  strike  his  bill 
against  the  cage,  turn  up  the  white  of  his  eyes,  cock  his 
head,  and  cry,  "Who  are  you?  Who  are  you?  Tom 
Moor  of  Sackville  Street." 

Tom  Moor  was  fond  of  gaining,  and  often  lost  large 
sums  of  money  ;  finding  his  business  neglected  in  his 
absence,  he  had  a  small  hazard  table  set  up  in  one  corner 
of  his  dining-room,  and  invited  a  party  of  his  friends  to 
phv  at  it 

\ 


THE  JACKDAW.  4ol 

The  Jackdaw  had  by  this  time  become  familiar ;  his 
cage  was  left  open,  and  he  hopped  into  every  part  of  the 
house  ;  sometimes  he  got  into  the  dining-room,  where  the 
gentlemen  were  at  play,  and  one  of  them  being  a  constant 
winner,  the  others  would  say,  "  Damn  it,  how  he  nicks 
tl loin."  The  bird  learned  these  words  also,  and  adding 
them  to  the  former,  would  call,  "Who  are  you?  who  are 
you  ?  Torn  Moor  of  Sackville  Street.  Damn  it,  how  he 
nicks  them.'" 

Tom  Moor,  from  repeated  losses  and  neglect  of  business, 
failed  in  trade,  and  became  a  prisoner  in  the  Fleet;  he 
look  his  bird  witli  him,  and  lived  on  the  master's  side, 
supported  by  friends,  in  a  decent  manner.  They  would 
sometimes  ask  what  brought  you  here?  when  he  used  to 
lift  up  his  hands  and  answer,  "  Had  company,  by  (i — /' 
The  bird  learned  this  likewise,  and  at  the  cud  of  the 
former  words,  would  say,  "  AVhat  brought  you  here? 
J>ad  company,  by  (T — ." 

Some  of  Tom  Moor's  friends  died,  others  went  abroad, 
and  by  degrees  he  was  totally  deserted,  and  removed  to  the 
common  side  of  the  prison,  where  the  jail  distemper  soon 
attacked  him  :  and  in  the  last  stage  of  life  lying  on  a  straw 
bed  ;  the  poor  bird  had  been  for  two  days  without  food  or 
water,  came  to  his  feet,  and  striking  his  bill  on  the  floor, 
calls  out,  u  Who  are  you?  Tom  Moor  of  Sackville  Street; 
damn  it,  how  he  nicks  them,  damn  it,  how  he  nicks  them. 
What  brought  you  here?  bad  company,  by  U — ,  bad  com 
pany,  by  (T — ."' 

Tom  Moor,  who  had  attended  to  the  bird,  was  struck 
with  his  words,  and  reflecting  on  himself,  cried  out,  "(ioud 
(Jod,  to  what  a  situation  am  I  reduced!  my  father,  when 
he  died,  left  me  a  good  fortune  and  an  established  trade. 
T  have  spent  my  fortune,  ruined  my  business,  and  am  now 
dying  in  a  loathsome  jail;  and  to  complete  all,  keeping 
that  poor  thing  confined  without  support.  T  will  en 
deavor  to  do  one  piece  of  justice  before  T  die,  by  setting 
him  at  liberty." 

He  made  a  struggle  to  crawl  from  his  straw  bed,  opened 
26 


402  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  casement,  and  out  flew  the  bird.  A  flight  of  jackdaws 
from  the  Temple  were  going  over  the  jail,  and  Tom  Moor's 
bird  mixed  among  them.  The  gardener  Avas  then  laying 
the  plats  of  the  Temple  gardens,  and  as  often  as  he  placed 
them  in  the  day  the  jackdaAvs  pulled  them  up  by  night. 
They  got  a  gun  and  attempted  to  shoot  some  of  them ; 
but,  being  cunning  birds,  they  always  placed  one  as  a 
Avatch  in  the  stump  of  a  hollow  tree  ;  Avho,  as  soon  as  the 
gun  was  leveled  cried  "  Mawk,"  and  away  they  fleAv. 

The  gardeners  were  advised  to  get  a  net,  and  the  first 
night  it  was  spread  they  caught  fifteen  ;  Tom  Moor's 
bird  was  amongst  them.  One  of  the  men  took  the  net 
into  a  garret  of  an  uninhabited  house,  fastens  the  doors 
and  windows,  and  turns  the  birds  loose.  "  Now,"  said  he, 
"  you  black  rascals,  I  Avill  be  revenged  of  you."  Taking 
hold  of  the  first  at  hand,  he  tAvists  her  neck,  and  throw 
ing  him  down,  cries,  "  There  goes  one."  Tom  Moor's  bird, 
who  had  hopped  up  to  a  beam  at  one  corner  of  the  room 
unobserved,  as  the  man  lays  hold  of  the  second,  calls  out, 
"  Damn  it,  IIOAV  he  nicks  them."  The  man  alarmed,  cries, 
"  Sure  I  heard  a  voice,  but  the  house  is  uninhabited,  and 
11  ic  door  is  fast ;  it  could  only  be  imagination."  On  laying 
bold  of  the  third,  and  tAvisting  his  neck,  Tom's  bird  again 
says,  "Damn  it,  how  he  nicks  them."  The  man  dropped 
the  bird  in  his  hand,  and  turning  to  where  the  voice  came 
from,  seeing  the  other  with  his  mouth  open,  cries  out, 
"  Who  arc  you  ?  "  to  which  the  bird  answered,  "  Tom  Moor 
<  >f  Sack ville  Street,  Tom  Moor  of  Sackville  Street."  "  The 
devil  you  are;  and  what  brought  you  here."  Tom  Moor's 
bird,  lifting  up  his  pinions,  answered,  "  Bad  company,  by 
G — ,  bad  company,  by  G — ."  The  fellow,  frightened  al 
most  out  of  his  Avits,  opened  the  door,  ran  down  stairs,  and 
out  of  the  house,  folloAved  by  all  the  birds,  who  by  this 
i  in -ju is  regained  their  liberty. 


STORY  OF  CONN-EDA.  403 


THE    STOUT  OF    C'OXX-EDA  ;  OK,  THE  GOLDEN 
APPLES  OF   LOn-ill   ERNE.* 

Tr<insl<ited  fi°<»n  t/tv  original  7/vW/  of  the  Story-teller^ 
ABRAHAM    M<  (1ov,  Inj  NICHOLAS  O'K KAKXKY. 

I 'i  was  long  before  the  time  the  western  districts  of  f/iitix 
/<"<>(//</<(  f  had  any  settled  name,  l>ut  were  indiscriminately 
called  after  the  person  who  took  possession  of  them,  and 
whose  name  they  retained  only  as  long  as  his  sway  lasted, 
that  a  powerful  king  reigned  over  this  part  of  the  sacred 
island.  lie  was  a  puissant  warrior, and  no  individual  was 
found  able  to  compete  with  him  either  on  land  or  sea,  or 
question  his  right  to  his  conquest.  The  great  king  of  the 
west  held  uncontrolled  sway  from  the  island  of  Kathlin  to 
the  month  of  the  Shannon  by  sea,  and  far  as  the  glittering 
length  by  land.  The  ancient  king  of  the  west,  whose  name 
was  Conn,  was  good  as  well  as  great,  and  passionately  loved 
by  his  people.  His  queen  was  a  Jirwiton-  (British)  princess, 
and  was  equally  beloved  and  esteemed,  because  she  was  the 
great  counterpart  of  the  king  in  every  respect ;  for  whatever 
good  qualification  was  wanting  in  the  one,  the  other  was 
certain  to  indemnify  the  omission.  It  was  plainly  mani 
fest  that  heaven  approved  of  the  career  in  life  of  the  vir 
tuous  couple ;  for  during  their  reign  the  earth  produced 
exuberant  crops,  the  trees  fruit  ninefold  commensurate 
with  their  usual  bearing,  the  rivers,  lakes,  and  surround 
ing  sea  teemed  with  abundance  of  choice  fish,  while  herds 
and  flocks  were  unusually  prolific,  and  kine  and  sheep 
yielded  such  abundance  of  rich  milk  that  they  shed  it  in 
torrents  upon  the  pastures  ;  and  furrows  and  cavities  were 
always  filled  with  the  pure  lacteal  produce  of  the  dairy. 

*  Printed  first  in  the  Cambrian  Journal,  1855  ;  reprinted  and 
re-edited  in  the  Folk-Lore  Record,  vol.  ii. 

f  Innis  Fodlila— Island  of  Destiny,  an  old  name  for  Ireland, 


404  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

All  these  were  blessings  heaped  by  heaven  upon  the  west 
ern  districts  of  Innis  Fodhla,  over  which  the  benignant 
and  just  Conn  swayed  his  scepter,  in  approbation  of  the 
course  of  government  he  had  marked  out  for  his  own 
guidance.  It  is  needless  to  state  that  the  people  who 
owned  the  authority  of  this  great  and  good  sovereign 
were  the  happiest  on  the  face  of  the  wide  expanse  of 
earth.  It  was  during  his  reign,  and  that  of  his  son  and 
successor,  that  Ireland  acquired  the  title  of  the  "  happy 
isle  of  the  west"  among  foreign  nations.  Conn  ]M6r  and 
his  good  Queen  Eda  reigned  in  great  glory  during  many 
years ;  they  were  blessed  with  an  only  son,  whom  they 
named  Conn-eda,  after  both  his  parents,  because  the 
Druids  foretold  at  his  birth  that  he  would  inherit  the 
good  qualities  of  both.  According  as  the  young  prince 
grew  in  years,  his  amiable  and  benignant  qualities  of 
mind,  as  well  as  his  great  strength  of  body  and  manly 
bearing,  became  more  manifest.  lie  was  the  idol  of  his 
parents,  and  the  boast  of  his  people  ;  he  was  beloved  and 
respected  to  that  degree  that  neither  prince,  lord,  nor 
plebeian  swore  an  oath  by  the  sun,  moon,  stars,  or  ele 
ments,  except  by  the  head  of  Conn-eda.  This  career  of 
glory,  however,  was  doomed  to  meet  a  powerful  but  tem 
porary  impediment,  for  the  good  Queen  Eda  took  a  sudden 
and  severe  illness,  of  which  she  died  in  a  few  days,  thus 
plunging  her  spouse,  her  son,  and  all  her  people  into  a 
depth  of  grief  and  sorrow  from  which  it  was  found  diffi 
cult  to  relieve  them. 

The  good  king  and  his  subjects  mourned  the  loss  of 
Queen  Eda  for  a  year  and  a  day,  and  at  the  expiration  of 
that  time  Conn  M6r  reluctantly  yielded  to  the  advice  of 
his  Druids  and  counsellors,  and  took  to  wife  the  daughter 
of  his  Arch-Druid.  The  new  queen  appeared  to  walk  in 
the  footsteps  of  the  good  Eda  for  several  years,  and  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  her  subjects.  But,  in  course  of  time, 
having  had  several  children,  and  perceiving  that  Conn-eda 
was  the  favorite  son  of  the  king  and  the  darling  of  the 
people,  she  clearly  foresaw  that  he  would  become  sue- 


STORY  OF  CONN-EDA.  405 

cessor  to  the  throne  after  the  demise  of  his  father,  and 
11  mi  her  son  would  certainly  be  excluded.  This  excited 
the  hatred  and  inflamed  the  jealousy  of  the  Druid's  daugh 
ter  against  her  step-son  to  such  an  extent  that  she  re 
solved  in  her  own  mind  to  leave  nothing  in  her  power  un 
done  to  secure  his  death,  or  even  exile  from  the  kingdom, 
She  began  by  circulating  evil  reports  of  the  prince;  but, 
as  he  was  above  suspicion,  the  king  only  laughed  at  the 
weakness  of  the  queen  ;  and  the  great  princes  and  chief 
tains,  supported  by  the  people  in  general,  gave  mi  unqual 
ified  contradiction  ;  while  the  prince  himself  bore  all  bis 
trials  with  the  utmost  patience,  and  always  repaid  her  bad 
and  malicious  acts  towards  him  with  good  and  benevolent 
ones.  The  enmity  of  the  queen  towards  Conn-eda  knew 
no  bounds  when  she  saw  that  the  false  reports  she  cir 
culated  could  not  injure  him.  As  a  last  resource,  to  cany 
out  her  wicked  projects,  she  determined  to  consult  her 
Cailleach-chearc  (hen-wife),  who  was  a  reputed  enchant 
ress. 

Pursuant  to  her  resolution,  by  the  early  dawn  of  morn 
ing  she  hied  to  the  cabin  of  the  Cailleach- Chearc,  and  di 
vulged  to  her  the  cause  of  her  trouble.  "  F  cannot  render 
you  any  help,"  said  the  CaUlem-h,  "  until  you  name  the 
dwiis"  (reward).  "  What  dam's  do  you  require,"  asked 
the  queen,  impatiently.  "  My  dam's"  replied  the  enchant 
ress,  "is  to  rill  the  cavity  of  my  arm  with  wool,  and  the 
hole  I  shall  bore  with  my  distaff' with  red  wheat."  "Your 
duals  is  granted,  and  shall  be  immediately  given  you,"  said 
the  queen.  The  enchantress  thereupon  stood  in  the  door  of 
her  hut,  and  bending  her  arm  into  a  circle  with  her  side, 
directed  the  royal  attendants  to  thrust  the  wool  into  her 
house  through  her  arm,  and  she  never  permitted  them  to 
cease  until  all  the  available  space  within  was  filled  with 
wool.  She  then  got  on  the  roof  of  her  brother's  house, 
and,  having  made  a  hole  through  it  with  her  distaff, 
caused  red  wheat  to  be  spilled  through  it,  until  that  was 
filled  up  to  the  roof  with  red  wheat,  so  that  there  was  no 
room  for  another  grain  within.  "  Now,"  said  the  queen, 


406  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  since  you  have  received  your  duais,  tell  me  how  I  can  ac 
complish  my  purpose."  "  Take  this  chess-board  and  chess 
and  invite  the  prince  to  play  with  you ;  you  shall  win  the 
first  game.  The  condition  you  shall  make  is,  that  who 
ever  wins  a  game  shall  be  at  liberty  to  impose  whatever 
geasa  (condition)  the  winner  pleases  on  the  loser.  When 
you  win,  you  must  bid  the  prince,  under  the  penalty 
either  to  go  into  ionarbadh  (exile),  or  procure  for  you, 
within  the  space  of  a  year  and  a  day,  the  three  golden 
apples  that  grew  in  the  garden,  the  each  dubh  (black 
steed),  and  cuileen  con  na  mbuadh  (hound  of  supernatural 
powers),  called  Samer,  which  are  in  the  possession  of  the 
king  of  the  Firbolg  race,  who  resides  in  Lough  Erne.* 
Those  two  things  are  so  precious,  and  so  well  guarded, 
that  he  can  never  attain  them  by  his  own  power ;  and  if 
he  would  rashly  attempt  to  seek  them,  he  should  lose  his 
life." 

The  queen  was  greatly  pleased  at  the  advice,  and  lost  no 
time  in  inviting  Conn-eda  to  play  a  game  at  chess,  under 
the  conditions  she  had  been  instructed  to  arrange  by  the 
enchantress.  The  queen  won  the  game,  as  the  enchantress 
foretold,  but  so  great  was  her  anxiety  to  have  the  prince 
completely  in  her  power,  that  she  was  tempted  to  challenge 
him  to  play  a  second  game,  which  Conn-eda,  to  her  astonish 
ment,  and  no  less  mortification,  easily  won.  "  Now,"  said 
the  prince,  "  since  you  won  the  first  game,  it  is  your  duty 
to  impose  your  geis  first."  "  My  geis"  said  the  queen, 
"  which  I  impose  upon  you,  is  to  procure  me  the  three 
golden  apples  that  grow  in  the  garden,  the  each  dubh 
(black  steed),  and  cuileen  con  na  mbuadh  (hound  of  su- 
pernatual  powers),  which  are  in  keeping  of  the  king  of  the 
Firbolgs,  in  Lough  Erne,  within  the  space  of  a  year  and 
a  day  ;  or,  in  case  you  fail,  to  go  into  ionarbadh  (exile), 
and  never  return,  except  you  surrender  yourself  to  lose 
your  head  and  comhead  beatha  (preservation  of  life). 

*  The  Firbolgs  believed  their  elysium  to  be  under  water.  The 
peasantry  still  believe  many  lakes  to  be  peopled.  See  section  on 
Tyeer-na-n-Oge, 


STORY  OF  CONft-£DA.  40? 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  prince,  "  the  gets  which  I  bind 
you  by,  is  to  sit  upon  the  pinnacle  of  yonder  tower  until 
my  return,  and  to  take  neither  food  nor  nourishment  of 
any  description,  except  what  red- wheat  you  can  pick  up 
with  the  point  of  your  bodkin  ;  but  if  I  do  not  return,  you 
are  at  perfect  liberty  to  come  down  at  the  expiration  of 
the  year  and  a  day." 

In  consequence  of  the  severe  gels  imposed  upon  him, 
Coim-eda  was  very  much  troubled  in  mind ;  and,  well  know 
ing  he  had  a  long  journey  to  make  before  be  would  reach 
his  destination,  immediately  prepared  to  set  out  on  his 
way,  not,  however,  before  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  wit 
nessing  the  ascent  of  the  queen  to  the  place  where  she  was 
obliged  to  remain  exposed  to  the  scorching  sun  of  the  sum 
mer  and  the  blasting  storms  of  winter,  for  the  space  of  one 
year  and  a  day,  at  least.  Goim-eda  being  ignorant  of  what 
steps  he  should  take  to  procure  the  wtvh  dnbk  and  ruileen 
con  na  wbuad/t,  though  lie  was  well  aware  that  human 
energy  would  prove  unavailing,  thought  proper  to  consult 
the  great  Druid,  Fionn  Dadlma,  of  Sleabh  Badhna,  who 
was  a  friend  of  his  before  he  ventured  to  proceed  to  Lough 
Erne.  When  he  arrived  at  the  bruighean  of  the  Druid, 
he  was  received  with  cordial  friendship,  and  thefailte  (wel 
come),  as  usual,  was  poured  out  before  him,  and  when  he 
was  seated,  warm  water  was  fetched,  and  his  feet  bathed, 
so  that  the  fatigue  he  felt  after  his  journey  was  greatly 
relieved.  The  Druid,  after  he  had  partaken  of  refresh 
ments,  consisting  of  the  newest  of  food  and  oldest  of  liquors, 
asked  him  the  reason  for  paying  the  visit,  and  more  par 
ticularly  the  cause  of  his  sorrow ;  for  the  prince  appeared 
exceedingly  depressed  in  spirit.  Conn-eda  told  his  friend 
the  whole  history  of  the  transaction  with  his  stepmother 
from  the  beginning  to  end.  "  Can  you  not  assist  me  ?  " 
asked  the  Prince,  with  downcast  countenance.  "  I  cannot, 
indeed,  assist  you  at  present,"  replied  the  Druid ;  "  but  I 
will  retire  to  my  grianan  (green  place)  at  sun-rising  on 
the  morrow,  and  learn  by  virtue  of  my  Druidism  what 
can  be  done  to  assist  you."  The  Druid,  accordingly,  as 


408  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  sun  rose  on  the  following  morning,  retired  to  his 
<jr'nnntn,  and  consulted  the  god  he  adored,  through  the 
power  of  bis  draoidheacht*  When  he  returned,  he  called 
Conn-eda  aside  on  the  plain,  and  addressed  him  thus : 
4  My  dear  son,  I  find  you  have  been  under  a  severe — an 
almost  impossible — gets  intended  for  your  destruction  ; 
no  person  on  earth  could  have  advised  the  queen  to  impose 
it  except  the  Cailleach  of  Lough  Corrib,  who  is  the 
greatest  Druidess  now  in  Ireland,  and  sister  to  the  Firbolg, 
King  of  Lough  Erne.  It  is  not  in  my  power,  nor  in  that 
of  the  Deity  I  adore,  to  interfere  in  your  behalf ;  but  go 
directly  to  Sliabh  Mis,  and  consult  JZanchinn-duine  (the 
bird  of  the  human  head),  and  if  there  be  any  possibility 
of  relieving  you,  that  bird  can  do  it,  for  there  is  not  a 
bird  in  the  western  world  so  celebrated  as  that  bird, 
because  it  knows  all  things  that  are  past,  all  things  that 
are  present  and  exist,  and  all  things  that  shall  hereafter 
exist.  It  is  difficult  to  find  access  to  his  place  of  conceal 
ment,  and  more  difficult  still  to  obtain  an  answer  from 
him  ;  but  I  will  endeavor  to  regulate  that  matter  for  you  ; 
and  that  is  all  I  can  do  for  you  at  present." 

The  Arch-Druid  then  instructed  him  thus  : — "  Take," 
said  he,  "  yonder  little  shaggy  steed,  and  mount  him  im 
mediately,  for  in  three  days  the  bird  will  make  himself 
visible,  and  the  little  shaggy  steed  will  conduct  you  to 
his  place  of  abode.  But  lest  the  bird  should  refuse  to 
reply  to  your  queries,  take  this  precious  stone  (leaf/ 
lorymhar),  and  present  it  to  him,  and  then  little  danger 
and  doubt  exist  but  that  he  will  give  you  a  ready  answer." 
The  prince  returned  heartfelt  thanks  to  the  Druid,  and, 
having  saddled  and  mounted  the  little  shaggy  horse 
without  much  delay,  received  the  precious  stone  from  the 
Druid,  and,  after  having  taken  his  leave  of  him,  set  out  011 
his  journey.  lie  suffered  the  reins  to  fall  loose  upon  the 
neck  of  the  horse  according  as  he  had  been  instructed,  so 
that  the  animal  took  whatever  road  he  chose. 

*  Draoidheacht,  i.e.,  the  Druidic  worship  ;  magic,  sorcery, 
divination. 


STORY  OF  CONN-ED  A.  409 

It  would  be  tedious  to  relate  the  numerous  adventures 
he  had  with  the  little  shaggy  horse,  which  had  the  ex 
traordinary  gift  of  speech,  and  was  a  draoidheacht  horse 
during  his  journey. 

The  Prince  having  reached  the  hiding-place  of  the 
strange  bird  at  the  appointed  time,  and  having  presented 
him  with  the  leaf/  lorymhar,  according  to  Fionn  Badhna's 
instructions,  and  proposed  his  questions  relative  to  the 
manner  he  could  best  arrange  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  gets, 
the  bird  took  up  in  his  mouth  the  jewel  from  the  stone 
on  which  it  was  placed,  and  flew  to  an  inaccessible  rock 
at  some  distance,  and,  when  there  perched,  he  thus  ad 
dressed  the  prince,  "  Conn-eda,  son  of  the  King  of  Crua- 
chan,"  said  he,  in  a  loud,  croaking  human  voice,  "remove 
the  stone  just  under  your  right  foot,  and  take  the  ball  of 
iron  and  <-<>rn<i  (cup)  you  shall  find  under  it;  then  mount 
your  horse,  cast  the  ball  before  you,  and  having  so  done, 
your  horse  will  tell  you  all  the  other  things  necessary  to 
be  done.""  The  bird,  having  said  this,  immediately  flew 
out  of  sight. 

Donn-eda  took  great  care  to  do  every  thing  according  to 
the  instructions  of  the  bird.  He  found  the  iron  ball  and 
corna  in  the  place  which  had  been  pointed  out.  lie  took 
them  up,  mounted  his  horse,  and  cast  the  ball  before  him. 
The  ball  rolled  on  at  a  regular  gait,  while  the  little  shaggy 
horse  followed  on  the  way  it  led  until  they  reached  the 
margin  of  Lough  Erne.  Here  the  ball  rolled  in  the  water 
and  became  invisible.  "  Alight  now/'  said  the  draoidheacht 
pony,  "  and  put  your  hand  into  mine  ear;  take  from  thence 
the  small  bottle  of  ice  (all-heal)  and  the  little  wicker  basket 
which  you  will  find  there,  and  remount  with  speed,  for  just 
now  your  great  dangers  and  difficulties  commence."  Conn- 
eda,  ever  faithful  to  the  kind  advice  of  his  draoidheacht 
pony,  did  what  he  had  been  advised.  Having  taken  the 
basket  and  bottle  of  'ice  from  the  animal's  ear,  he  remounted 
and  proceeded  on  his  journey,  while  the  water  of  the  lake 
appeared  only  like  an  atmosphere  above  his  head.  When 
he  entered  the  lake  the  ball  again  appeared,  and  rolled 


410  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

along  until  it  came  to  the  margin,  across  which  was  a 
causeway,  guarded  hy  three  frightful  serpents  ;  the  hiss 
ings  of  the  monsters  was  heard  at  a  great  distance,  while, 
on  a  nearer  approach,  their  yawning  mouths  and  formi 
dable  fangs  were  quite  sufficient  to  territy  the  stoutest 
heart.  "  Now,"  said  the  horse,  "  open  the  basket  and  cast 
a  piece  of  the  meat  you  find  in  it  into  the  mouth  of  each 
serpent ;  when  you  have  done  this,  secure  yourself  in  your 
seat  in  the  best  manner  you  can,  so  that  we  may  make 
all  due  arrangements  to  pass  those  draoidheacht  peists. 
If  you  cast  the  pieces  of  meat  into  the  mouth  of  each 
peist  unerringly,  we  shall  pass  them  safely,  otherwise  we 
are  lost."  Conn-eda  flung  the  pieces  of  meat  into  the 
jaws  of  the  serpents  with  unerring  aim.  "  Bare  a  benison 
and  victory,"  said  the  draoidheacht  steed,  "  for  you  are  a 
youth  that  will  win  and  prosper."  And,  on  saying  these 
words,  he  sprang  aloft,  and  cleared  in  his  leap  the  liver 
and  ford,  guarded  by  the  serpents,  seven  measures  be 
yond  the  margin.  "  Are  you  still  mounted,  prince  Conn- 
eda  ?  "  said  the  steed.  "  It  has  taken  only  half  my  exertion 
to  remain  so,"  replied  Conn-eda.  "  I  find,"  said  the  pony, 
"  that  you  are  a  young  prince  that  deserves  to  succeed ; 
one  danger  is  now  over,  but  two  others  remain."  They 
proceeded  onwards  after  the  ball  until  they  came  in  view 
of  a  great  mountain  flaming  Avith  fire.  "  Hold  yourself  in 
readiness  for  another  dangerous  leap,"  said  the  horse. 
The  trembling  prince  had  no  answer  to  make,  but  seated 
himself  as  securely  as  the  magnitude  of  the  danger  before 
him  would  permit.  The  horse  in  the  next  instant  sprang 
from  the  earth,  and  flew  like  an  arrow  over  the  burning 
mountain.  "  Are  you  still  alive,  Conn-eda,  son  of  Conn- 
mor  ?  "  inquired  the  faithful  horse.  "  I'm  just  alive,  and 
no  more,  for  I'm  greatly  scorched,"  answered  the  prince. 
"  Since  you  are  yet  alive,  I  feel  assured  that  you  are  a 
young  man  destined  to  meet  supernatural  success  and 
benisons,"  said  the  Druidic  steed.  "  Our  greatest  dangers 
are  over,"  added  he,  "  and  there  is  hope  that  we  shall  over 
come  the  next  and  last  danger."  After  they  had  pro- 


STORY  OF  CONN-EDA.  41 1 

ceecled  a  short  distance,  his  faithful  steed,  addressing  Conn- 
eda,  said,  "  Alight,  now,  and  apply  a  portion  of  the  little 
bottle  of  ice  to  your  wounds."  The  prince  immediately 
followed  the  advice  of  his  monitor,  and,  as  soon  as  he 
rubbed  the  ice  (all-heal)  to  his  wounds,  he  became  as 
whole  and  fresh  as  ever  he  had  been  before.  After  hav 
ing  done  this,  Conn-eda  remounted,  and  following  the 
track  of  the  ball,  soon  came  in  sight  of  a  great  city  sur 
rounded  by  high  Avails.  The  only  gate  that  was  vis 
ible  was  not  defended  by  armed  men,  but  by  two  great 
towers  that  emitted  flames  that  could  be  seen  at  a  great 
distance.  "  Alight  on  this  plain,"  said  the  steed,  "  and  take 
a  small  knife  from  my  other  ear;  and  with  this  knife  you 
shall  kill  and  flay  me.  When  you  have  done  this,  en 
velop  yourself  in  my  hide,  and  you  can  puss  the  gate  un 
scathed  and  unmolested.  When  you  get  inside  you  can 
come  out  at  pleasure;  because  when  once  you  enter  them 
is  no  danger,  and  you  can  pass  and  repass  whenever  you 
wish;  and  let  me  tell  you  that  all  I  have  to  ask  of  you  in 
return  is  that  you,  when  once  inside  the  gates,  will  im 
mediately  return  and  drive  away  the  birds  of  prey  that 
may  be  fluttering  round  to  feed  on  my  carcass ;  and 
more,  that  you  will  pour  any  drop  of  that  powerful  \<-<>,  if 
such  still  remain  in  the  bottle,  upon  my  flesh,  to  preserve 
it  from  corruption.  When  you  do  this  in  memory  of  me,  if 
it  be  not  too  troublesome,  dig  a  pit,  and  cast  my  remains 
into  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Conn-eda,  "  my  noblest  steed,  because  you 
have  been  so  faithful  to  me  hitherto,  and  because  you  still 
would  have  rendered  me  further  service,  I  consider  such 
a  proposal  insulting  to  my  feelings  as  a  man,  and  totally 
in  variance  with  the  spirit  which  can  feel  the  value  of 
gratitude,  not  to  speak  of  my  feelings  as  a  prince.  ]>ut  as 
a  prince  I  am  able  to  say,  Come  what  may — come  death  it 
self  in  its  most  hideous  forms  and  terrors — I  never  will  sac 
rifice  private  friendship  to  personal  interest.  Hence,  I  am, 
I  swear  by  my  arms  of  valor,  prepared  to  meet  the  worst — 
even  death  itself — sooner  than  violate  the  principles  of  hu- 


412  IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 

inanity,  honor,  and  friendship!  What  a  sacrifice  do  you 
propose  !  "  "  Pshaw,  man  !  heed  not  that ;  do  what  I  ad 
vise  you,  and  prosper."  "  Xever  !  never  !  "  exclaimed  the 
prince.  "  Well,  then,  son  of  the  great  western  monarch," 
s:iid  the  horse,  with  a  tone  of  sorrow,  "  if  you  do  not  follow 
my  advice  on  this  occasion,  I  tell  you  that  both  you  and 
I  shall  perish,  and  shall  never  roeet  again  ;  but,  if  you  act 
as  I  have  instructed  you,  matters  shall  assume  a  happier 
and  more  pleasing  aspect  than  you  may  imagine.  I  have 
not  misled  you  heretofore,  and,  if  I  have  not,  what  need 
have  you  to  doubt  the  most  important  portion  of  my 
counsel  ?  Do  exactly  as  I  have  directed  you,  else  you 
will  cause  a  worse  fate  than  death  to  befall  me.  And, 
moreover,  I  can  tell  you  that,  if  you  persist  in  your  reso 
lution,  I  have  done  with  you  forever." 

When  the  prince  found  that  his  noble  steed  could  not 
be  persuaded  from  his  purpose,  he  took  the  knife  out  of 
his  ear  with  reluctance,  and  with  a  faltering  and  trembling 
hand  essayed  experimentally  to  point  the  weapon  at  his 
throat.  Conn-eda's  eyes  were  bathed  in  tears ;  but  no 
sooner  had  he  pointed  the  Druidic  xci«tt  to  the  throat  of 
his  good  steed,  than  then  dagger,  as  if  impelled  by  some 
Druidic  power,  stuck  in  his  neck,  and  in  an  instant  the 
work  of  death  was  done,  and  the  noble  animal  fell  dead 
at  his  feet.  When  the  prince  saw  his  noble  steed  fall 
dead  by  his  hand,  he  cast  himself  on  the  ground,  and  cried 
aloud  until  his  consciousness  was  gone.  When  he  re 
covered,  he  perceived  that  the  steed  was  quite  dead  ;  and, 
as  he  thought  there  was  no  hope  of  resuscitating  him,  he 
considered  it  the  most  prudent  course  he  could  adopt  to 
act  according  to  the  advice  he  had  given  him.  After 
many  misgivings  of  mind  and  abundant  showers  of  tears, 
he  essayed  the  task  of  flaying  him,  which  was  only  that 
of  a  few  minutes.  Wrhen  he  found  he  had  the  hide 
separated  from  the  body,  he,  in  the  derangement  of  the 
moment,  enveloped  himself  in  it,  and  proceeding  towards 
the  magnificent  city  in  rather  a  demented  state;  of  mind, 
entered  it  without  any  molestation  or  opposition.  It  was 


STORY  OF  COXN-EDA. 

a  surprisingly  populous  city,  and  ;m  extremely  wealthy 
place  ;  but  its  beauty,  magnificence,  and  wealth  had  no 
charms  for  Conn-eda,  because  the  thoughts  of  the  loss  he 
sustained  in  his  dear  steed  were  paramount  to  those  of 
all  other  earthly  considerations. 

lie  had  scarcely  proceeded  more  than  fifty  paces  from 
the  gate,  when  the  last  request  of  his  beloved  draoidheacht 
steed  forced  itself  upon  his  mind,  and  compelled  him  to 
return  to  perform  the  last  solemn  injunctions  upon  him. 
When  he  came  to  the  spot  upon  which  the  remains  of  his 
beloved  draoidheacht  steed  lay,  an  appalling  sight  pre 
sented  itself;  ravens  and  other  carnivorous  birds  of  prey 
were  tearing  and  devouring  the  flesh  of  his  dear  steed. 
Tt  was  but  short  work  to  put  them  to  flight;  and  having 
uncorked  his  little  jar  of  tec,  he  deemed  it  a  labor  of  love 
to  embalm  the  now  mangled  remains  with  the  precious 
ointment.  The  potent  Ira  had  scarcely  touched  the  inan 
imate  flesh,  when,  to  the  surprise  of  (1ouu-eda,  it  com 
menced  to  undergo  some  strange  change,  and  in  a  few 
minutes,  to  his  unspeakable  astonishment  and  joy,  it  as 
sumed  the  form  of  one  of  the  handsomest  and  noblest 
young  men  imaginable,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
the  prince  was  locked  in  his  embrace,  smothering  him 
with  kisses,  and  drowning  him  with  tears  of  joy.  When 
one  recovered  from  his  ecstasy  of  joy,  the  other  from  his 
surprise,  the  strange  youth  thus  addressed  the  prince: 
"  Most  noble  and  puissant  prince,  you  are  the  best  sight 
I  ever  saw  with  my  eyes,  and  I  am  the  most  fortunate 
being  in  existence  for  having  met  you  !  Behold  in  my 
person,  changed  to  the  natural  shape,  your  little  shaggy 
draoidheacht  steed  !  I  am  brother  of  the  king  of  the  city  ; 
and  it  was  the  wicked  Druid,  Fion  Badhna,  who  kept  me 
so  long  in  bondage  ;  but  he  was  forced  to  give  me  up 
when  you  came  to  consult  him,  for  my  yeis  was  then 
broken ;  yet  I  could  not  recover  my  pristine  shape  and 
appearance  unless  you  had  acted  as  you  have  kindly  done. 
It  was  my  own  sister  that  urged  the  queen,  your  step 
mother,  to  send  you  in  quest  of  the  steed  and  powerful 


414  IRISH  FAIRY  TALKS. 

puppy  hound,  which  my  brother  has  now  in  keeping. 
My  sister,  rest  assured,  had  no  thought  of  doing  you  the 
least  injury,  but  much  good,  as  you  will  find  hereafter ; 
because,  if  she  were  maliciously  inclined  towards  you, 
she  could  have  accomplished  her  end  without  any  trouble. 
In  short,  she  only  wanted  to  free  you  from  all  future 
danger  and  disaster,  and  recover  me  from  my  relentless 
enemies  through  your  instrumentality.  Come  Avith  me, 
my  friend  and  deliverer,  and  the  steed  and  the  puppy- 
hound  of  extraordinary  powers,  and  a  golden  apple  shall 
be  yours  and  a  cordial  welcome  shall  greet  you  in  my 
brother's  abode ;  for  you  will  deserve  all  this  and  much 
more." 

The  exciting  joy  felt  on  the  occasion  wns  mutual,  and 
they  lost  no  time  in  idle  congratulations,  but  proceeded 
on  to  the  royal  residence  of  the  King  of  Lough  Erne. 
Here  they  were  both  received  with  demonstrations  of  joy 
by  the  king  and  his  chieftains ;  and,  when  the  purpose 
of  Conn-eda's  visit  became  known  to  the  king,  he  gave  a 
free  consent  to  bestow  on  Conn-eda  the  black  steed,  the 
cuileen  con-na-mbuadh,  called  Samer,  and  the  three  apples 
of  health  that  were  growing  in  his  garden,  under  the 
special  condition,  however,  that  he  would  consent  to  re 
main  as  his  guest  until  he  could  set  out  on  his  journey  in 
proper  time,  to  fulfil  his  gels.  Conn-eda,  at  the  earnest 
solicitation  of  his  friends,  consented,  and  remained  in  the 
royal  residence  of  the  Firbolg,  King  of  Lough  Erne,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  the  most  delicious  and  fascinating  pleasures 
during  that  period. 

When  the  time  of  his  departure  came,  the  three  golden 
apples  were  plucked  from  the  crystal  tree  in  the  midst 
of  the  pleasure-garden,  and  deposited  in  his  bosom ;  the 
puppy-hound,  Samer,  was  leashed,  and  the  leash  put  into 
his  hand ;  and  the  black  steed,  richly  harnessed,  was  got 
in  readiness  for  him  to  mount.  The  king  himself  helped 
him  on  horseback,  and  both  he  and  his  brother  assured 
him  that  he  might  not  fear  burning  mountains  or  hissing 
serpents,  because  none  would  impede  him,  as  his  steed 


STORY  OF  CONN-EDA.  415 

was  always  a  passport  to  and  from  his  subaqueous  king 
dom.  And  both  he  and  his  brother  extorted  a  promise 
from  Conn-eda,  that  he  would  visit  them  once  every  year 
at  least. 

Conn-eda  took  leave  of  his  dear  friend,  and  the  king 
his  brother.  The  palling-  was  a  tender  one,  soured  by 
regret  on  both  sides.  He  proceeded  on  his  way  without 
meeting  anything  to  obstruct  him,  and  in  due  time  came 
in  sight  of  the  dnn  of  his  father,  where  the  queen  had 
been  placed  on  the  pinnacle  of  the  tower,  in  full  hope 
that,  as  it  was  the  last  day  of  her  imprisonment  there, 
the  prince  would  not  make  his  appearance,  and  thereby 
forfeit  all  pretensions  and  right  to  the  crown  of  his  father 
forever.  But  her  hopes  were  doomed  to  meet  a  disap 
pointment,  for  when  it  had  been  announced  to  her  by  her 
couriers,  who  had  been  posted  to  watch  the  arrival  of  the 
prince,  that  he  approached,  she  was  incredulous ;  but 
when  she  saw  him  mounted  on  a  foaming  black  steed, 
richly  harnessed,  and  leading  a  strange  kind  of  animal  by 
a  silver  chain,  she  at  once  knew  he  was  returning  in 
triumph,  and  that  her  schemes  laid  for  his  destruction 
were  frustrated.  In  the  excess  of  grief  at  her  disappoint 
ment,  she  cast  herself  from  the  top  of  the  tower,  and  was 
instantly  dashed  to  pieces.  Conn-eda  met  a  welcome 
reception  from  his  father,  who  mourned  him  as  lost  to 
him  forever,  during  his  absence ;  and,  when  the  base 
conduct  of  the  queen  became  known,  the  king  and  his 
chieftains  ordered  her  remains  so  be  consumed  to  ashes 
for  her  perfidy  and  wickedness. 

Conn-eda  planted  the  three  golden  apples  in  his  garden, 
and  instantly  a  great  tree,  bearing  similar  fruit,  sprang 
up.  This  tree  caused  all  the  district  to  produce  an  ex 
uberance  of  crops  and  fruits,  so  that  it  became  as  fertile 
and  plentiful  as  the  dominions  of  the  Firbolgs,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  extraordinary  powers  possessed  by  the 
golden  fruit.  The  hound  Samerand  the  steed  were  of  the 
utmost  utility  to  him  ;  and  his  reign  was  long  and  pros 
perous,  and  celebrated  among  the  old  people  for  the  great 


IRISH  FAIRY  TALES. 


abundance  of  corn,  fruit,  milk,  fowl,  and  fish  that  pre 
vailed  during  this  happy  reign.  It  was  after  the  name 
Conn-eda  the  province  of  Connaucht,  or  Conneda,  or  Con- 
nacht,  was  so  called. 


THE    END. 


3-    7 


BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


